Dancing Flames
by Maintenant
Summary: Hyacinth Potter, Girl-Who-Lived, Woman-Who-Conquered, and owner of heaps-of-more-hyphenated-titles, died… again. Imagine her surprise, then, when she is greeted this time not by Dumbledore, but by Death. Who tells her that she is his Mistress, confirms that Fate hates her, and sends her off to restore balance to a world where she is the heir of the mafia underworld.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

 **A/N:** I know I have a few other stories that I'm working on, but this has been bothering me for a while. I have a lot of the plot for this planned out, and most of the next chapter completed. I hope you like it!

Special thanks to xxNoblesse12 for discussing this with me and giving me new ideas!

 **Warnings** : This is a fem!Harry (Hyacinth), MoD!Harry story where Hyacinth is reincarnated as Tsunayoshi (Tsunako). I'm not really planning romance at the moment, but won't be averse to it if that's what you guys really want. Further warnings: Tsunako has a twin brother! Overdone, I know, but I thought I'd try my hand at it.

Well, then, enjoy!

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _So this is it, then._

Hyacinth Potter, Girl-Who-Lived, Woman-Who-Conquered, Savior-of-the-World, Protector-of-Peace, and owner of heaps-of-more-hyphenated-titles, died… again.

It was similar to her first death, actually. She wasn't at King's Crossing, but she was in an almost blindingly white room that could only possibly be that white through divine intervention. In the middle of the extraordinarily white room stood a quaint black table made of some material she did not recognize. On top of it, two very intricate and expensive-looking white-gold cups of tea, their contents visibly steaming.

 _At least the tea set shows good taste. It wouldn't look out of place in Aunt Cissa's home,_ Hyacinth thought idly.

(Although frankly, she was a bit disappointed with the tea. She felt one's death deserved wine at the very least, perhaps some strong vodka, but she supposed tea was a close third).

As she moved to sit in one of the two chairs provided, Hyacinth noted that the table seemed to be made of marble. Yet unlike the elaborate tea set its beauty lay in its simplicity. Hyacinth chuckled fondly, _Aunt Cissa would approve._

One might wonder why she seemed to be taking her death so well… the answer is that she had actually been expecting it.

For the last ten years, ever since the Great Battle of Hogwarts, a part of her had known that her death was close.

She hadn't told anyone, but she knew a few of her loved ones suspected. These last few days especially, it appeared they could sense something. Hyacinth didn't look different – still with a toned body, smooth skin, and a laugh in her eyes. Yet there was undeniably a different air about her, as though she was no longer with those around her, looking instead at a place far away. For the past two weeks, Hermione had been pouring over tomes with a feverish fervor she hadn't seen since the war, as well as doing all she could not to leave Hyacinth alone for even a second. Hyacinth's lover himself had been looking at her with unusual intensity, a despairing yet resigned look in his eyes that pained her every time she saw it.

He had asked for her hand in marriage only two days ago. She had said no. She couldn't do that to him, not when she knew she was to die soon. It was already selfish of her – so, so incredibly selfish. She should have let him go years ago, but couldn't bring herself to do it – to let him love her and keep him close.

Hyacinth Potter died in her sleep.

While Hyacinth had expected her death, she hadn't expected it to occur that way. She was sure the manner of her death would come as a surprised to the ones who knew her, as well. They had all figured – jokingly agreeing with each other over beers, yet with steely glints in their eyes that said they'd do anything to stop it – that with her infamous Potter luck she'd have died at the wand of one of the few pureblood fanatics left, or at the claws of a band of rampaging dragons, or at some newly risen dark lord's nefarious plan. A meteor randomly and unpredictably landing precisely on her while somehow not injuring anybody else due to her obligatory heroic deed that saved all of the surrounding people would have been considered more probable than her dying peacefully in her sleep.

It wasn't that she went _looking_ for trouble, really ( _Really,_ Hermione. Don't look at me like that! You _know_ I don't). Trouble just came to her. She had resigned herself to that fact a long time ago, and even managed to derive some amusement out of it now. It was either that, or go barking mad. She felt being amused by the constant chaos around her was the lesser evil.

And yet, despite her unfortunate tendency to attract trouble the way honey attracted bees, instead of the large, dramatic death everyone had been expecting, Hyacinth Potter died by simply going to sleep one day and never waking up.

It was a peaceful death, all things considered.

She wasn't angry, or despondent, or shocked. In general, she felt she had lived a short but rather fulfilling life.

She had a peaceful country, loyal friends who surrounded her, a man who loved her.

But she had to admit her life hadn't started off very well.

The whole parents murdered by a madman as an infant and being placed with emotionally abusive and neglectful relatives did put a damper on things, especially at the beginning.

Even once she turned 11 and finally got her Hogwarts letter, finally discovering her _people_ and a place she could call _home,_ she couldn't enjoy it for very long. For while she was no longer being treated like a _freak_ she was put on a pedestal so high she couldn't even see the bottom and was worshipped in a way no human should ever be lest they let it all go to their head and decide to become the ruler of the world or something equally outrageous.

(Sometimes she marveled at how easy it would have been for her to become a Dark Lady, controlling the masses and perhaps even expanding her control to other countries that were equally besotted with her. No one would have suspected a thing.)

Hyacinth had been woefully unprepared for her fame at the beginning of her school years, and had lamented the loss of having a normal school experience (or at least as normal as was possible in a magical school).

And then, of course, there were the numerous attempts on her life all throughout her Hogwarts years.

In her first year she was confronted with a man possessed by the one who killed her parents and who was doing his very best to kill her (she was confronted with a Cerberus, as well, whom she later befriended and adopted, much to her friends' consternation), until she touched him and he fell apart in front of her horrified eleven year old eyes. In her second year it was a 60-foot basilisk and one of Voldemort's cursed horcruxes until she stabbed the first with a sword and the second with a basilisk fang that had been imbedded in her own flesh and whose poison would have killed her had a loyal phoenix not arrived just in time to cure her.

Her third year didn't actually include an attempt on her life (although she _did_ almost have her soul sucked out by hundreds of dementors, which she thought bloody well _counted_ ), but there were numerous attempts on her godfather's life, which in her mind was _so much worse._ She had to fight off loveable werewolves, traitorous rats, and malinformed greasy professors all the while trying to alternatively escape or kill her godfather whom she thought had betrayed her parents up to when she found out he had been imprisoned for _13 years without a trial_ for a crime he _didn't commit_ while the real murderer was one of her best friends' _pet rat,_ at which point she spent the rest of her time trying to save his life and curb the clear insanity that his stay in Azkaban had caused.

Third year was also the year where she was approached by her dear Aunt Narcissa and promptly scolded the minute the platinum blonde beauty had laid eyes on her, " _Hyacinth Lilium Potter! What on_ Earth _are you wearing?! Is this what muggles claim is fashion these days? And why_ are _you hunched over like that? Do you have back problems, perchance? Are you having an in depth conversation with the floor tiles? No, no, this will not do. It will not do at all."_ Narcissa had promptly grabbed hold of Hyacinth's hand and all but dragged the very baffled girl away while still somehow managing to look the perfect picture of elegance. _"No Black woman shall be seen acting like anything less than a proper lady!"_

And that was how she found out that she was, in fact, a member of the Black family through her paternal grandmother Dorea Potter née Black, who had married Charlus Potter. This made Narcissa Malfoy née Black her cousin (although she insisted she be referred to as Aunt Cissa), and, to Hyacinth's absolute horror at the time, it also meant she was related, however distantly, to _Draco Malfoy_.

It said something about her situation that he had automatically become her favorite cousin, despite the fact that she absolutely couldn't stand the prat.

And so it was in her third year that she recovered a family of sorts – not only gaining a mischievous if slightly mad godfather in Sirius and a furry supportive uncle in Remus, but a loving if demanding aunt in Narcissa and a surprisingly endearing albeit still insufferable cousin in Draco.

(She had learned, as well, that although Draco was a prat and by large a bigot, he was incredibly loyal to family and had always wanted a sibling. She was horrified to find that she actually _liked_ spending time with the sarcastic blonde.)

As though trying to compensate for all of her newfound happiness through the discovery of her family in the previous year, fourth year decided to make her suffer as much as possible. This time the attempt on her life came from Lord Voldemort in person, an attempt made right after he used her blood to recreate his body in the cemetery that still fueled her nightmares. And all of this was only after she had been forced to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, a life-threatening tournament that usually only allowed _seventh years_ to compete, gaining admiration from the Gryffindors but scorn and even hatred from all the other Houses and visiting schools. Even one of her best friends, Ron Weasley, had severed their friendship (already fragile because of her hesitantly friendly relationship with Malfoy) and accused her of purposefully putting her name in the Triwizard Cup. He had ignored her most of the year, and Hyacinth would have broken under the pressure of it all had she not had the support of Hermione and, still shockingly, Draco.

With Hermione helping her keep up with her studies, Draco politicking to control the other Houses' animosity towards her, and both of them helping her survive her tasks, she had somehow made it to the end. Draco had even introduced her to the man who would later become her lover, and ensured that Narcissa's dancing lessons stuck so that she'd look as "graceful and commanding as a Black lady should" at the Yule Ball.

Eventually, she won the Triwizard tournament, to no one's surprise, apparently. Hermione had put it quite nicely, "You're the _chosen one_ , Haya. People expect absurd things from you and they're going to continue to do so until you _stop doing absurd things._ That means no more trolls or forbidden corridors or basilisks or dragons or dementors or dark lords or god knows what else, Haya _. No more._ " Honestly, the way Hermione talked you'd think Hyacinth _enjoyed_ being put in absurd situations.

And in fourth year Hyacinth had seen a friend's death for the first time.

Cedric's pale, unmoving face still haunted her to this day.

Fifth year was little better. She had been reviled for announcing that Voldemort was back, and the government sought a myriad of ways to shut her up. They sent a pink toad to supposedly teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but who was actually there to monitor Hyacinth, and who succeeded in not only teaching absolutely nothing, but also torturing the students with blood quills. With Hermione's encouragement, and a surprising number of students' enthusiasm, Hyacinth had started Potter's Resistance ( _What?!_ Dumbledore's Army?! Hyacinth, do try to stop being such a Gryffindork. If you're naming it after a person then that person obviously has to be _you._ They're not joining _Dumbledore_ , are they? Merlin, _how_ are we related again _?_ ) and taught not only fifth years, but fourth years, sixth years, and even seventh years what she knew of Defense Against the Dark Arts (A few seventh years later thanked her for helping them get good marks on their NEWTs, much to her bewilderment). Had it not been for Hermione's genius with the secret coins and Draco's spying on the toad, Hyacinth was sure the pink amphibian would have caught them at one of their secret meetings much earlier.

As though the headache caused by the overdose of pink was not enough, throughout the year she had suffered from excruciating visions of Voldermort's actions. The one redeeming factor was that it had saved Arthur Weasley's life, making a very uncomfortable Hyacinth receive promises of eternal gratitude and undying devotion from many of the Weasley children, as well as serving to bridge the gap between her and Ron, although they'd never be as close as they once were.

Hyacinth had even received a vision of Voldemort torturing her godfather, prompting her to immediate action. She led a small band of her friends, including, of course, Hermione and Draco ("Don't look at me like that Hyacinth, I've decided. You're _family_ , and- and you make me a better person. So suck it up, because you're not getting rid of me"). They had done incredibly well for a band of fifth year Hogwarts students, efficiently fending off the Death Eaters on their own. Hyacinth had learned of the cursed prophecy that had damned her and her family, seen Dumbledore duel Voldemort in the middle of the Ministry, and watched in horrified stupor as her godfather was killed by their cackling cousin before her eyes.

Sixth and seventh year had been a flurry of violence and death. With Voldemort publicly back, the Wizarding public had turned to her for a solution. Her Aunt Cissa had helped her deal with the reporters and the onslaught of attention. Draco had been threatened and was forced to pretend to be a spy for Voldemort, all the while actually reporting back to Hyacinth. Dumbledore had been killed by Snape, evoking mass fear, and Hyacinth went on a horcrux hunt with Hermione and Draco. All throughout, there were constant attempts on her life.

By the end of it all, Hyacinth had become rather numb to threats to her wellbeing. Which was good, in a sense, as it served to get her used to leading a war.

At the end of the Great Battle of Hogwarts in her seventh year, all of Voldemort's horcruxes had been destroyed, including the one in her. All that was left was the man, or the creature he had become, himself. Hyacinth and Voldemort dueled, but Voldemort's wand refused to harm Hyacinth and quickly flew towards her the moment the Dark Lord's grip loosened. Disarmed and taking advantage of Hyacinth's confusion at the wand's peculiar behavior, Voldemort had fled along with most of his forces.

Hyacinth and her allies regrouped, counted their losses, and mourned their dead.

Historians would later state that it was this battle that changed the course of the war.

A previously despairing English public witnessed in awe the way that Hyacinth Potter and students – mere _teenagers!_ – she had trained succeeded in forcing the Dark Lord to retreat.

And hope was restored.

The Potter's Resistance became public. Hyacinth had taught them to defend themselves, to survive – she had led them into battle and risked her life for theirs. They were certainly not about to abandon her now. So they pledged themselves to her, vowing to follow her to victory or death.

And that's how Hyacinth got her own, personal army.

Hearing of this concentrated movement to save Britain, members of all ages from all around the country travelled to join the rapidly expanding army. British citizens that had previously fled to live in other countries returned upon realizing that actual progress was being made – that people were acting to stop Voldemort, so different from the Ministry's ineffective actions from before. A large influx of Aurors arrived, asking to be part of Potter's Resistance; eager to finally be able to fight against Voldemort and actually have the chance to make a difference, something they had never felt at the Ministry.

Several other Ministry workers joined them soon after, equally relieved to find an independent actor who was not corrupt and was taking serious measures to stop the Dark Lord, quickly followed by hundreds of Healers, teachers, potion masters, and members of every profession known to man. Not long after, legions of magical creatures sought Hyacinth out and asked to be able to be part of the Resistance to help fight off Voldemort. Hyacinth accepted all of them – the Light families and the Grey families and the Dark families and creatures of every kind. All were welcomed equally.

For the first time, there was hope that they could win.

Differences were put aside. Slytherins and Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, purebloods and muggleborns were all equal within the Resistance. Centaurs and giants, humans and houselves, all rode proudly under the same banner- Hyacinth's banner.

Initially, Hyacinth had been overwhelmed by so many people seeking to join. Even Hermione had been struck speechless when the ever elusive and aloof centaurs _willingly sought Hyacinth out_ and respectfully asked to fight under her banner. But with Draco at her left and Hermione at her right, she faced the issue like she had done all those before (proudly and without backing down), and conquered it.

As she had taught the first members of The Resistance previously, she taught the new members as well. Along with Hermione and a senior Auror named Kingsley Shacklebolt, she devised group attacks and defenses. Another Auror, Mad-Eye Moody, the real one this time, and Draco thought of security measures for their camp and more underhanded tactics. Kingsley and Mad-Eye also helped in increasing Hyacinth's own arsenal of attack and defense spells, as well as rigorous hand-to-hand combat, both of which the young woman had an astoundingly high aptitude for.

None of the recently joined adults questioned who the leader of The Resistance was. It was she, after all, who brought them all together and trained them. It was she who consistently stopped Voldemort, ever since she was a young child. And already over the last year she had done more than the Ministry or even Dumbledore had ever succeeded in doing.

Hyacinth took to leadership uncommonly well. She had a committee of advisors that helped her form decisions wisely. She had an army of devoted soldiers she was training. And she had the backing of foreign governments (most notably France's and Italy's) to win the war.

Soon, her name was said with the same amount of reverence as Voldemort's name was said with fear.

Voldemort's regroup of his forces did not last long. A year after the Great Battle the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts, the Potter Resistance's base of operations, once more. And they were repelled once more.

For five years Voldemort's Death Eaters and Hyacinth's Resistance waged war.

And at the end of the fifth year, Potter's Resistance won.

Since Lady Fate would have it no other way, Voldemort and Hyacinth dueled at the center of the battle, the rest of the battle falling away at what all involved instinctively knew to be the defining moment of the war. The Death Eaters and Potter's Resistance alike stood stunned at the awe-inspiring duel that was taking place in their midst. Voldemort and Hyacinth alike seemed to be caught in an intricate and deadly dance, shooting off powerful spells thoughtlessly, ducking and weaving through each other's attacks like they had been doing so all their lives.

This time, Voldemort's wand did not owe its allegiance to Hyacinth. It was a duel of tactics, skill, and power. Never before had there been anything of its like.

Eventually, Hyacinth overpowered Voldemort and with one last spell, cut the dark lord's head off. In a brutal display, she grabbed the decapitated head and held it up, releasing a victorious roar that was met with equally loud cries from the members of the Potter's Resistance, who quickly struck down the rest of the fleeing Death Eaters.

Hyacinth's speech that day was one no one present would ever forget.

The world rejoiced at the Dark Lord's fall, and Hyacinth and her friends became war heroes. They were all awarded Orders of Merlin, Hyacinth receiving Order of Merlin First Class, in a ceremony that was broadcasted all over the globe.

In the confusion that followed, Hyacinth was somehow forced to act as Minister of Magic ("But I don't want to Hermione!" "You're the only one the people will accept right now, Haya. It's just for a little bit, just until things stabilize. We'll hold elections in a few months and then you'll be free to do whatever. Besides, you know Draco will help you with all the politicking and I'll be by your side the entire time." "All right, fine, but only a few months."). She somehow ended up staying Minister of Magic – the youngest one _ever_ at 22 years old as well as the first woman minister – up to the day she died, much to her horror.

After a few months in office, she finally started dating Blaise Zabini, an Italian Slytherin that she had met through Draco and who had been part of her Inner Council during the war. She spent many marvelous days touring Italy with him, slowly learning the language and admiring the culture, all the while escaping her paperwork. After a few years, she was even introduced to his mother, the infamous Black Widow who had had eight very rich husbands, all of whom mysteriously died about a year after marriage, leaving her with all of their fortunes. She was truly a beautiful woman.

Blaise had been a little hesitant to introduce Hyacinth to his mother, afraid that she would take offense to his mother's more… unconventional ways. But to his shock - and absolute terror - the two women got along famously, tanning on Italian beaches, going for shopping sprees in Milan, and attending operas in Verona. They had favorite restaurants all over Italy that they regularly went to, and when Hyacinth couldn't leave her office in Britain for too long, Lady Isadora Zabini ("Please, _cara_ , call me Isa"), would go to Britain and they would spend time there.

For a while, Blaise was afraid Hyacinth would leave him to elope with his mother. And this time he was sure his mother _wouldn't_ be mysteriously widowed (If not because his mother loved the young woman so much then because it seemed like _no one_ could kill Hyacinth).

Now that she thought of it, Hyacinth realized Isadora had spent even more time than usual with Hyacinth in the few weeks before her death. The Woman-who-Conquered supposed the beautiful lady had somehow realized that something was off, and that her days with Hyacinth were numbered.

A week before Hyacinth's death, Isadora had taken her out for a very expensive meal at one of their favorite restaurants in Italy. As usual, they had had a fantastic time, drinking wine and chatting away. Hyacinth noticed that there had been something off about the older woman, however.

"Cara," Isadora's voice had been soft and seductive, as usual. It was something that Hyacinth was attempting to copy. That voice could convince an angel to sin. The Zabini matriarch had looked at Hyacinth, beautiful black eyes glinting with something more than the reflection of the candles. Hyacinth had never seen the woman so serious, " _Ti adoro, cara._ These last few years you have been some of the best of my life. You have become my best friend, _cara_ , despite our age difference and I feel it important that you know this." Hyacinth had felt burned by the older woman's gaze, " _I adore you."_

And then Isadora had quickly shifted back to her usual jovial persona, "Why, if only my son hadn't met you first, I'd have quickly made you my lover by now. Are you sure you do not want to leave him and elope with me?"

Hyacinth had laughed, slightly relieved to be back on familiar ground, "After seeing what happened to the last few people who married you, I think I'd rather not."

Usually, anyone mentioning the Lady Zabini's ex-husbands would have received a stern glare and perhaps some poison in their drink, but Hyacinth had always been able to get away with it. "Ah, but you _must_ know you are different from those bumbling oafs," Isadora had smiled seductively. "Come, I could show you what the love of a woman is like."

"Oh, dearest, I fear that should I take you up on your offer I shall abandon all of my responsibilities and leave Britain in order to spend my days with you," Hyacinth joked back.

"And how, exactly, is that a bad thing? It would certainly be amusing to watch Wizarding Britain panic at the disappearance of their most beloved Minister of Magic."

They had both laughed then, Lady Zabini laughing so uncharacteristically loud that she started crying.

 _They say life flashes before your eyes right before you die. I think they got the order wrong. For me, life flashes before your eyes_ after _death._

The appearance of a figure cloaked in black brought Hyacinth out of her reverie.

The figure made an odd sight, the black contrasting starkly with the surrounding white of the room (or place or whatever) that they were in. The black was so deep that it seemed to be leeching off all the white in the room, as though it were some sort of black hole that kept sucking in all of the light surrounding it.

The figure was tall, almost seven feet tall if Hyacinth were to estimate, and faceless. Despite the great height, Hyacinth did not get the impression that it was a man. Nor was it a woman. Rather, it seemed genderless, not androgynous so much as something gender could not be applied to.

"Welcome, Mistress." The figure intoned in a voice that was neither masculine nor feminine, with no discernable accent, "I have been awaiting your arrival for a long time."

Hyacinth felt a chill down her back. Which was strange, as she thought that death should have made physical sensations impossible. Apparently not. Hermione would be fascinated by this.

"Mistress?" Hyacinth questioned. The term made her rather uncomfortable. She was no one's mistress.

The black figure simply gestured to the tea table in a silent invitation to take a seat. Hyacinth did, not quite mustering the energy to be surprised that the tea was still steaming, despite all the time left in the open.

The black figure also took a seat. Hyacinth had half expected such a tall, large being to look awkward sitting in a delicate, normal-sized chair, but the figure looked like the epitome of grace. Hyacinth once again found herself mentally thanking Narcissa for instilling proper etiquette in her. Hyacinth would have felt incredibly uncomfortable sitting with anything less than perfect posture and elegance in front of such a graceful being.

The dark figure spoke again once they were seated, "You became Mistress of Death at seventeen years of age, when you successfully reunited the three Deathly Hallows."

Hyacinth's momentary pause was the only indication of her surprise. "And here I was so sure it was all a myth after nothing happened." Slowly, she took a sip from her tea. "I suppose this makes you Death, then?"

The dark figure – Death – nodded. "You are not afraid." It was a statement, not a question.

"I have faced worse things than death."

Although Hyacinth could not see Death's face, she sensed the being understood. She had seen war, after all. It was infinitely worse.

"You were supposed to have ascended as a goddess among mortals upon reuniting all three, but I sensed that you wished to stay in your world for a while longer. I was only able to give you ten years, before your position forced you to return to your realm." Death explained. "Order also proclaimed that your world needed you."

Well, wasn't _that_ flattering. Despite many assurances to the contrary by her friends, Hyacinth had always thought the world would have carried on just as well if she hadn't been there. Someone else would have simply taken her place and defeated Voldemort in her stead. She had especially not thought that the world would need her even after Voldemort was dead, but apparently she was necessary for the rebuilding of magical Europe.

"That was kind of you, Death." She uttered earnestly. The being, after all, hadn't needed to take into account her wishes or the needs of her world. "Thank you."

Death paused a little, and had the being been mortal Hyacinth would have said it was surprised.

"It is only natural." Death explained, "You are my mistress, after all."

A sense of foreboding crept up on Hyacinth, "And exactly what does being Death's Mistress entail?" She had never wanted any of this. Had never wanted absolute power, fame, immortality. One of the reasons she had been so okay with her death was that she had thought she would be able to see her parents again.

"There are a series of duties that pertain to the Mistress of Death. Of them, travelling to different worlds to restore balance is perhaps the most important one. You will be reborn through your incarnations in those worlds, but be able to keep all of your previous memories."

"I see." It appeared that Dumbledore was right about one thing, at least. Death truly _was_ the next great adventure. Or series of adventures, apparently.

"Soon, you will revert into your seven-year-old self from a parallel world. There are disturbances there that need to be taken care of. Fate has also requested your presence."

Well, she couldn't say that was entirely unexpected. Fate had always seemed to see Hyacinth as her personal toy. When she was younger she had been resentful, but now Hyacinth learned to simply live (or, she supposed, die) with it.

There was one thing, however, that Hyacinth had most definitely _not_ been expecting.

"Oh, dear. Seven years old, you say?" At Death's stoic nod, she continued, "Well, that will be awkward for a 27 year old."

And really, why seven? She felt that was certainly a strange age to awake to in a parallel world. Would it not have made more sense if she had simply been reincarnated?

"The Mistress of Death is as ageless as Death itself." Death explained, and Hyacinth shivered at what basically amounted to a confirmation of her apparent immortality. "But when you are reincarnated you will be both physically _and_ mentally seven. Albeit a very mature seven-year-old, as your memories will still be intact."

"Well then," Hyacinth delicately sipped some of her tea, "It seems I am off to the next great adventure."

And so Hyacinth Potter woke up.

* * *

 **A/N:** This was all background information to explain who Hyacinth is. We'll get to the KHR world next chapter. Be sure to leave a review on your way out!


	2. Family

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

 **A/N:** Oh, wow, this took me forever. I put everything else on hold for this. This is the longest chapter I've ever written! I don't have a beta, so please forgive any mistakes.

Thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed! Your support means so much!

I hope everyone enjoys!

* * *

Hyacinth Potter opened her eyes and was overwhelmed by orange.

It was a light, creamy orange, as far as oranges go, so it wasn't quite so bad. She'd have to wonder what kind of torture she was being subjected to if it had been a Chuddley Cannons shade of orange – that mind-numbing shade that was truly a most unfortunate coincidence for Ron. Orange never looked good on redheads, and yet the Weasley boy refused to give up the shirt of his favorite quidditch team. He wore it all the time, much to everyone's amusement (and their eyes' horror).

Hyacinth had always been more of a classical white walls kind of person, but she found that she did not mind the creamy orange ceiling that much. In fact, she quite liked it.

Was this the influence of her seven-year-old self, perhaps? Or did she actually like creamy orange walls when she was an adult but never had the opportunity to discover it?

But more importantly- who owned creamy orange walls anyway?

Bringing one surprisingly small hand into her line of vision, Hyacinth stared. The hand was so tiny, so- so _delicate-looking._ It wasn't rough, or calloused, or scarred like the hands of her adult body were. It was baby-smooth, completely unblemished, and had nails in a rather garish pink color with butterflies and glitter on them.

 _I've really become a child again…_

So it wasn't all just a strange dream. She really had died, really had met (and had tea with) Death, really had found out she was its Mistress, and really had been sent into the seven year old body of her parallel self in order to correct some mysterious imbalance in this world.

Even by her standards, this was all very strange.

But not the strangest thing that had ever happened to her.

She felt this would have been much more efficient if Death had told her exactly what imbalance the being wanted her to correct. She'd also have appreciated some sort of information about her circumstances in this world. Would she have to claim spontaneous amnesia to explain her lack of recognition of things? How could she explain a sudden change in personality – for even if seven year olds were young they still had distinct personalities – to those close to her? Well, she supposed it was better than being completely reincarnated and feeling herself be given birth to. She was sure that would have been traumatizing on so many levels. Knowing her luck, she was almost surprised it hadn't happened.

Then again, knowing her luck her parallel self had been kidnapped and she woke up just in time to be sold into slavery or some other horrible thing.

At that macabre thought, the instincts honed by years of being enemy number one to a terrorist group turned war faction kicked in, and Hyacinth's brain strapped into high gear and started working at twice the rate.

She was in an unfamiliar place. She had never seen the creamy orange ceiling before.

She was in a bed. The fluffy softness of the pillow beneath her head and the delicious comfort of cotton sheets above her told her this could only be a bed.

She was not chained. She was all too familiar with the weight of metal, or the roughness of rope, that would dig into her ankles and wrists. But nothing was holding her down. In fact, she was currently inelegantly and comfortably sprawled in bed.

It was too late to feign sleep. She had already opened her eyes to look at the creamy orange ceiling, as well as brought her hand up like an absolute idiot. Whoever had potentially kidnapped her had probably seen this and so it would do her no good to pretend to still be unconscious.

Hyacinth sent a silent prayer that Moody had better things to do in the afterlife and hadn't witnessed her blunder. If he'd known she'd amateurishly blown her cover by not only opening her eyes but also moving her hand he'd probably kill her while shouting 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE'. And then he'd berate her for allowing him to kill her and bring her back to life just to kill her again. Yes, her teacher was _that_ insane.

He was one of those lovely cases were the cover of the book matched its insides to the tee.

With quick movements, Hyacinth sat up in the bed, and felt her entire world tilt sideways.

 _Damn it._ Hyacinth shut her eyes in pain. She had the mother of all headaches. She was fairly sure there were two hippogriffs trying to tapdance between her ears.

When she finally got herself under control, Hyacinth slowly looked around. She figured if she hadn't been attacked in the two minutes she had spent cradling her pounding head between her hands, she wouldn't be attacked now.

She was safe here. For now.

 _But where is here?_ Hyacinth wondered.

The walls matched the ceiling, all covered in the same shade of warm, creamy orange.

The bed she was sitting on was a soft white, and extremely comfortable. Lying next to her were more stuffed toys than she could count. Everything from the normal stuffed bears and stuffed rabbits to the magical stuffed unicorn and stuffed Pegasus to the more eccentric stuffed hippopotamus and stuffed proboscis monkey (whose technical name she only recognized because Draco had thought it was a magical creature mistaken for a muggle one when she convinced him to go to the muggle zoo with her).

Actually, the proboscis monkey went beyond eccentric and straight to ugly, with its disproportionately huge nose… and yet, the more she stared at the stuffed creature the more he endeared himself to her. She wasn't sure if he was hideous or cute. He seemed to be ugly to the point of being cute. How fascinating.

She'd donate the stuffed animals as soon as she could, but perhaps she'd keep the big-nosed monkey.

Managing to tear her eyes away from the monkey, Hyacinth continued looking around the room.

As she eyed the floor, she could barely see what it was made of as it was hidden behind a veritable mess. The kind of mess the Weasley family would be proud of. Clothes, books, papers, shoes, and a myriad of other things littered the floor. Hyacinth was appalled at the same time as she wondered what kind of life her alternate self had led. Hyacinth had never been allowed to be messy – in fact at the Dursleys's she had had to clean up other people's mess; Dudley and Vernon were not pigs in appearance only; they had the living habits of the mud-dwelling creatures as well. And Petunia needed everything to be spotless. Hyacinth just got used to it and never even made a mess once she left the Dursley home and lived at Hogwarts, away from Petunia's watchful eye, or once she finally got her own apartment. For as long as she could remember she had always been neat and organized.

The soldier couldn't help but eye her room critically. It would make it very difficult to slip out of the room unheard should an intruder invade her home, as she couldn't step anywhere without stepping on _something_ and making a noise, no matter how light-footed she was. It could also cost her a few seconds in getting out, and sometimes a few seconds were all that were needed.

At least the messy room meant that the her from this dimension wasn't treated as a glorified house-elf. She was allowed to be messy.

 _Although this pigsty will have to go,_ Hyacinth thought. The girl couldn't live in these conditions. She had never been like Dumbledore, with all his baubles and gadgets all over the place that created an – admittedly fascinating – mess. She was more like Hermione in that aspect – she wanted things clean and organized, almost military. Well, at least her living space should be clean and organized.

Her life in general was a whole different story.

Suppressing the urge to begin cleaning now, Hyacinth continued observing.

On the opposite side of the bed stood a bookcase full of CDs and books. The books seemed to mostly be comprised of graphic novels, if the illustrations she saw on some of them were any indication. Unlike the few graphic novels she had seen, however, these were in black and white.

The shadow of a memory whispered to her that they were called 'mangas'.

There were more mangas carelessly piled upon the floor in a haphazard manner than there were in the bookcase. Oh dear, if Hermione could see this she'd have a fit. Graphic novels or not, they were still books ("and should be treated with absolute respect, Hyacinth, honestly. Now if I see you throwing another book around like it's a bloody quaffle again I will have your hide, Girl-Who-Lived or not!")

To the right of Hyacinth's bed was a wooden armoire, complete with oval mirror and a small jewelry box. If Hyacinth looked around, she could detect the telltale shine from some of the jewelry on the floor. Honestly, it was a wonder her alternate self had any possessions at all if she treated them all this way.

 _Resist, Hyacinth. First understand exactly where it is you are and your circumstances. Then you can clean._

Beside the armoire was a traditional wooden desk. On it were piles of papers messily laid out, as well as two textbooks. A working lamp stood on top of it. From the little that Hyacinth could see under the papers and books, she felt that she'd like the desk once she tidied it up.

A brief shiver overtook her as a memory of all the paperwork she had to deal with as Minister of Magic came to her. At least she'd never have to deal with paperwork again.

On one of the room's walls hung a small rectangular mirror, a childish drawing, and…

And there were posters. Tens of posters. _Boy band_ posters.

Posters of teenage boys in leather and with boyish hairstyles with boyish grins on their boyish faces.

They covered so much of the wall behind the desk you could hardly see the orange underneath.

 _No._

This would not be borne.

Hyacinth was almost thirty; she would _not_ have boy band posters in her room. She _refused_.

Well, perhaps she wasn't almost thirty any longer. She wasn't even almost thirteen. But she _had been_ almost thirty. The principle was the same.

No boy band posters.

Her pride couldn't bear it.

With purposeful movements seen only on those single-minded people who have no time for anything but their chosen mission (in this case to remove the posters from her sight, and perhaps from existence), Hyacinth got up from the comfy bed.

And nearly fell flat on her face.

Lying on the ground, face centimeters from the wooden floor, saved only by quick reflexes that made her hands shoot out in front of her to brace her fall, Hyacinth waited once again for her head to stop spinning.

She had completely misjudged how far away the floor was from her feet. Remembering her longer adult legs, she had overreached and been surprised when it took a few seconds for her feet to reach the floor.

A child's body would certainly take some getting used to.

Hyacinth sighed as she anticipated all the future moments of clumsiness the world had in store for her as she got used to her new, smaller body.

What did seven-year-olds even look like again?

What did _she_ look like?

Hyacinth was by no means vain (war had a tendency to make anything but _comradesdeathvictorylife_ superfluous, and she had too many scars for anything resembling vanity), but she really hoped she wasn't repugnant, either.

A small part of her told her she was simply afraid to see the last things she had to remember her parents by gone – no messy black hair and aristocratic nose from her father, no striking green eyes and oval face from her mother – but Hyacinth pushed that part of her away, and told herself she was just afraid of looking ugly.

With increasing trepidation, Hyacinth moved towards the armoire's mirror in order to get a look at her new, alternate body.

As she arrived in front of the mirror, she froze.

 _Merlin, I'm adorable._

Staring at her from the mirror was the cutest child Hyacinth had ever seen (after Teddy, of course, but then she didn't think anyone was as cute as her godson).

Standing there, looking at her, was a young girl with soft brown hair that reached her shoulders and seemed to stick up in fluffy bursts of its own will. Her skin was smooth, not one blemish to be seen and as pale as the moon except for two permanent flushes of pink over high cheekbones. The girl's doe eyes were a warm caramel color with intriguing orange flecks in them. Her eyes were big, their golden highlights framed by long, dark eyelashes. Overall, the young girl looked like a porcelain doll. Or Bambi given human form.

Tearing her gaze away from her face, Hyacinth surveyed the rest of her body.

The rest of her was also small and delicate-looking. _Frail,_ Hyacinth thought. That would have to change. Hyacinth had started intense training sessions while still fighting in the war, and had simply never stopped, even after all the Death Eaters were defeated and she had a horrible desk job (Minister of Magic involved so much _paperwork)_. She liked to keep fit and ready, just in case something happened again. With the Potter luck, something always did.

Hyacinth made a mental note to test the limits of this body and set up a training schedule as soon as possible.

Looking at what she was wearing, Hyacinth winced. She'd have to add 'buying new clothes' to that mental note. At the very least new pajamas. The one she was wearing right now consisted of a frilly pink nightgown with kittens on it. She could almost physically _see_ her pride shriveling up.

Hyacinth could deal with the kittens, but the frills had to go.

Making her way to her closet, Hyacinth opened it only to find more frilly dresses. Hyacinth sighed; war hero, Minister of Magic, and apparently Mistress of Death, yet she was still subjected to frilly pink dresses. Even had they known of her history people would be hard-pressed to take her seriously. Somehow, Hyacinth was sure this was Fate's fault somehow.

Hyacinth definitely would have to procure new clothes. The only clothes she could find that were frill-less were a series of what appeared to be identical uniforms consisting of a white shirt and grey skirt, presumably for school.

School. Hyacinth would have to spend years at school again. And elementary school, at that. Idly, Hyacinth remembered being chased by Dudley's gang when she was younger. Remembered having any potential friends be scared away by Dudley. Her aunt and uncle telling the entire neighborhood that she was a little delinquent, making them never invite her over to birthday parties. Giving up on getting good grades once she realized that whenever she got a better score than Dudley (which wasn't hard), she'd be accused of cheating.

The young, uncertain child from that time seemed so foreign to her now.

Well, she supposed it was time to make better memories of elementary school. But the idea of dealing with young children on a daily basis was not a pleasant one. And having to pretend to be one would be brutal.

Hyacinth turned to her desk, trying to find clues as to what her alternate child self was like. Looking at the papers strewn over the desk, she realized one of them was a test. Picking it up, she noticed half of it was blank, the other half with mostly incorrect answers written in a messy, barely legible scrawl. The grade was a pitiful 33%.

Hyacinth frowned. That would also have to change. Hyacinth finally had the opportunity to be a good student, to do things _well_ ; she wasn't about to allow herself to get 33 points on tests. Especially not elementary school tests. Her pride wouldn't allow it. And Hermione just might find a way to nag her about it from a parallel dimension if she ever found out (which she would. The girl had a sixth sense for these things; she could smell a bad grade like a dog could a bone. It was frankly rather terrifying.)

And Hyacinth wasintelligent. She had just not been used to actually showing it too often as a child. Showing she was intelligent would simply lead to more yelling from the Dursleys, so Hyacinth had severely downplayed her abilities in elementary, and by the time she got into Hogwarts she was so used to doing so that she didn't stop. Her friendship with Ron certainly didn't help matters. Thankfully, Hermione and Draco had managed to break the bad habit before the end of their Hogwarts years, and Hyacinth aced all her NEWTS.

Belatedly, Hyacinth realized that the questions and answers on her alternate child self's test were written in foreign characters. Hyacinth recognized this as Japanese form of writing. The young now brunette could speak a few languages (a happy consequence of being Minister of Magic for several years and having an Italian lover), but Japanese was definitely not one of them. Yet, somehow, Hyacinth understood every word.

Well, at least Death had not left her completely helpless. It appeared the knowledge from her alternate child self was still there, and could be accessed. Hyacinth chuckled in relief. At least she wouldn't have to learn a new language, or customs, or whatnot – or explain her sudden lack of knowledge about them.

Hyacinth looked at the top right corner of the test. There, in nearly illegible characters, was the name _Sawada Tsunako._

 _So my name is Tsunako, now…_ Hyacinth laughed, _At least it's not quite as much of a mouthful as Hyacinth, but perhaps a shorter name would be better._

Hyacinth – no, Tsunako – looked at the rest of the papers on the desk only to find more failing tests in Japanese, Japanese History, Math, and Science (the latter two being by far the worst grades) as well as several blank homework assignments. Passing an errant glance over the homework questions, Hyacinth was relieved to find that she knew the answer to almost all of them, the only exception being the Japanese History ones. She'd review it soon and be caught up, however.

Tsunako got up and started searching the room for a journal or diary of some sort that could help her figure out exactly whom she was and what she was like in this world, but she didn't get the opportunity to.

For in the next second everything changed.

"Tsu-chan! Breakfast is ready!" A warm, motherly voice called from beyond the bedroom door. "Come quickly or it's going to get cold~"

At the sound of the voice, Tsunako froze.

The young girl was assaulted with foreign – yet so, so intensely _familiar_ – images that flashed through her eyes and seared her brain.

 _She's at school, in P.E. class. The last one to be chosen. Both teams arguing that the other should take her. Eventually, the team that has her loses. Being forced to clean the gym by herself._

 _Hunching in on herself as the whisperings about her grow louder. No-Good Tsuna, they're saying. Ignoring the snickers that follow her, the cruel mockery._

 _Creating flames from nothing in her backyard. An old man – her grandfather? – touching her forehead and making everything suddenly feel so wrong._

 _A blonde man – her father, but no, he isn't truly a father – getting drunk in a living room, walking around in only his boxers. A brown-haired, brown-eyed woman – a mother, a true, loving mother – laughing joyfully._

 _Waking up early in the morning to find her mother crying. Making a lot of noise, to warn her mother she is coming, and then helping her cook breakfast and prepare lunch in a poor attempt to comfort her._

 _The feeling of utter rejection as a little blonde boy – her brother! She'd never had a sibling before – shoved her away from him, making the little girl fall on her butt. All of the blonde boy's friends pointing and laughing at her._

When Tsunako managed to fight back and regain control over her body, she found herself panting on the floor, head clutched tightly in her hands.

It was not the pain from the influx of this body's memories that had her stay lying immobile on the floor, however.

It was the earth-shattering realization that-

That Hyacinth-

That Tsunako-

That the girl who had been an orphan for as long as she could remember-

That she had a _family._

* * *

After taking a moment to compose herself and get ready for the day, Tsunako made her way down the stairs with shaky feet and tremulous hands. She had never had a true family before. The Dursleys had hated and abused (a word she could only use after months in therapy she had been forced to go to by Hermione) her. Her godfather was half mad and had died before she could live with him. Her Aunt Cissa and her cousin Draco had provided her with familial affection, but could not take her in due to Lucius Malfoy's alliance with the man whose dearest wish was to kill her.

How should Tsunako act with her new family? She didn't have the faintest idea how one behaved around one's mother. The families she had observed were all so different from each other. Draco acted distantly and often almost formally with his family, although there was always clear love between them. The Weasleys were the opposite; loud cries, emotional displays, and voracious hugs characterized their interactions. The Grangers were a middle ground; Hermione and her parents participated in the occasional hug, but not overly so. And Tsunako hardly felt that the joking and playful terrorizing between Isadora and Blaise was a normal mother-son interaction.

Due in part to her nervousness and largely due to her unfamiliarity with her new body, Tsunako tripped on the last steps and failed to catch herself, tumbling rather comically down the stairs.

She sent a silent prayer that Aunt Cissa hadn't seen that.

"Oi, Dame-Tsuna," jeered a blonde boy seated at the table. "Can you stop being such a loser so early in the morning? Some people are trying to eat."

Tsunako blinked owlishly at the boy, confused. She filtered through her memories and discovered that he featured in many of them – mostly during her earlier years. She found memories of them playing together as children, running around a park and passing a ball between each other. He would run after her and call her 'Onee-san', and knock on her door and invade her bed whenever he had a nightmare. Later, images of him pushing her around and forcing her to give him her lunch flashed through.

This was her younger twin brother, Sawada Yoshimune.

Tsunako grinned widely, visibly surprising the blonde boy. Tsunako had never had a sibling before. Childish excitement filled her at the thought of having someone so close, so intimate. A brother that shared her flesh and blood! An addition to her family!

Tsunako was so happy she could barely contain herself. It looked like a small sun had lit up under her skin and was causing her to _glow._

Tsunako didn't notice the blonde's disgruntled reaction at her obvious joy. Yoshimune frowned confusedly. Tsuna usually just lowered her head whenever he taunted her. Perhaps she hadn't listened properly or just misunderstood him? That would be just like Dame-Tsuna.

He was just about to come up with some other insulting comment when he noticed that Tsunako was wearing her school uniform… when school wouldn't start for another two weeks.

"Why are you wearing your uniform, Dame-Tsuna?" Yoshimune mocked, "Did you forget it's summer? What an idiot!" Honestly, how was he related to someone so Dame?

Tsunako blinked twice, slowly, dazedly, before looking down as though to confirm that, indeed, she was in fact wearing her school uniform.

After Nana had called her down to breakfast, Tsuna hadn't quite known what to do. She decided to proceed with the morning routine she had back in her own dimension, taking the time to take a shower, wash and brush her hair, brush her teeth, until finally she had stood in front of her closet clad in only a towel.

She had had no idea what to wear, and looking around her room there was no calendar that could clue her in as to what day it was. Tsunako figured there was a high probability that today was a school day, so decided to wear her uniform. Apparently she was wrong.

This time when Yoshimune spoke, Tsunako managed to break out of her jubilant oh-Merlin-I-have-a-twin-brother haze enough to pay attention to the content of what he was saying.

She would blame her rather lacking answer on said family-induced haze.

"I'm just so excited to be going to school, Yoshi-kun!"

Yoshimune's jaw dropped at not only the completely illogical response from his twin sister (who he _knew_ hated school with a fiery – or as fiery as a person like Dame-Tsuna could get – passion. And even if she did like it, who on earth put on their uniform two weeks before because they were excited to go to school?), but also at the absolutely embarrassing nickname for him that had come out of her mouth. She hadn't used that nickname in years!

Nana had overheard Tsunako's answer from the kitchen, unseen by Tsunako and her new brother, lit up like a firework. "Oh, Tsu-chan! That's so wonderful!" Tsunako heard her mother's voice from the kitchen, as well as the sound of a clap, as though her new mother had brought her hands together in pleasure. "I know you'll do much better this time, Tsu-chan! It's all about attitude!"

Tsunako froze momentarily. There it was again. That soft, dulcet voice. The kind of voice that would tell stories before you went to bed, that laughed softly at your moments of clumsiness, that said ' _I love you'_ with such regularity it wasn't even a big was the voice of her mother.

Tsunako laughed gaily at the thought, unknowingly earning another strange look from her brother.

She had heard her mother's voice twice now. Once when she called Tsunako for breakfast, and a second time when she- when she _encouraged_ Tsunako.

(Her mother's encouragement just ensured that Tsunako would be focusing even more on getting good grades. Anything to make her mother happy.)

Tsunako needed to see her mother's face. Yes, _needed._ It wasn't a want, a desire, a temptation, a decision. It wasn't something she could choose to do or not. There was no choice involved. Tsunako _needed_ to see what her mother looked like. It was like the need for air, like Tsunako was suffocating and would continue to slowly die if she didn't get at least a glimpse of her mother.

Vaguely, Tsunako knew that she could simply filter through the memories stored in her body and find the answer. In the periphery of her vision, she was aware of a few photographs lying around the living room that would also depict the appearance of her mother.

But it wasn't enough. Tsunako _needed_ to see her mother in person.

And yet, Tsunako stood rooted to her spot in the living room, right in front of the stairs, paralyzed. She was sure she made a strange sight for her brother. But even had she wanted to, Tsunako couldn't move. Couldn't even think about moving.

There were too many uncertainties wrecking chaos in her head.

What if Nana laid eyes on her and realized that her daughter wasn't fully her daughter anymore? Would she hate Hyacinth for changing her child? Would she hate the imposter that had taken over the body of one of the people she loved? Or- Or was the previous Tsunako not loved, was she like Hyacinth, growing up as nothing more than the family's house-elf? Was Hyacinth simply destined to never have a loving mother with her? Worse, what if Nana didn't realize that Tsunako wasn't fully Tsunako anymore, that there was a little bit of Hyacinth in there, but noticed the Hyacinth-inspired changes to her personality and decided she hated them, that she didn't love Tsunako anymore because of _Hyacinth_?

Tsunako didn't think she could take it. Not after everything. Not after wanting a mother for so long.

As though sensing her daughter's inner torment and deciding to put an end to it, Nana strode out of the kitchen, into the living room and into Tsunako's line of sight, carrying two plates with steaming omelets on them.

Tsunako sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her mother, accidentally inhaling the omelet's delicious aroma. A small, distant part of her mind told her it would taste even more delicious as it smelled.

But it wasn't the smell that she was thinking of.

 _My mother is beautiful._

Tsunako was aware that she was biased, as all children are towards their mothers. But, to her, Nana was breathtaking. Her hair was short and a dark chocolate brown, and Tsunako knew it would be soft to the touch. Her face was delicate-looking, as though she had to be handled with care. She was slim- there was no indication that she had birthed twins – and she wore a sunny yellow dress with a collar, a frilly white apron on top. Nana looked young, much younger than the presumed age of a woman who had two seven-year-olds. But there were wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, the kind of wrinkles only achieved after spending years smiling and laughing.

What was perhaps most stunning about the woman was her eyes. They weren't an exotic color or striking color like the eyes she had as Hyacinth, weren't captivating like the eyes of the magical creatures Tsunako had encountered over the years, didn't even twinkle like the eyes of Dumbledore. No, instead they were a deep chocolate brown, like Nana's hair, but there was a glimmer there, a sparkle, that seemed to melt anyone who saw it and spoke of a deep capacity to love.

This woman was _warm._

This was the kind of woman who would see abandoned little children and welcome them into her home without a second thought. Who would feed strangers hot chocolate and sit on the floor next to a homeless man to give him a slice of pie and ask him about his life.

Nana reminded Tsunako of a thinner and calmer version of pre-war Molly Weasley. So giving, so intent on making sure everyone was well fed, and indisputably loving.

Tsunako closed her eyes to fight off the telltale pinprick of tears in her eyes.

Nana was exactly what she'd always wanted in a mother.

Looking at Nana again, who was now busying herself getting salt and orange juice form the kitchen and settling it on the table, Tsunako realized the woman carried herself with an air of childlike innocence, of naiveté. Her smile was a tad too wide, her way of walking constantly open to assault, even the way she talked seemed to scream 'easy target' to the soldier in Tsunako. And yet she did this with an air of such obliviousness the likes of which Tsunako had only seen in Luna (although it must be said that Luna's obliviousness was often not obliviousness at all, something her enemies soon learned on the battlefield). It was like Nana had never witnessed any of the horrors of the world, like they didn't exist even in even her wildest nightmares.

If Tsunako had anything to say about it, it would stay that way.

And Tsunako most definitely did have something to say about it.

In that moment, looking at her obliviously smiling mother and her oddly still gaping brother, Tsunako made a decision.

No one would touch her family.

Anyone who dared would be in for a _very_ nasty surprise.

* * *

Sawada Yoshimune gaped at his sister.

No one could possibly blame him. His sister was acting so _weird._

It wasn't the fact that she had put on her school uniform when they still had two weeks before school started. Nor was it that she tripped on the staircase and made a fool of herself. It wasn't even that the moment she saw their mother she completely froze and went off on a daze. Those were totally normal, Dame-Tsuna things to do.

What _wasn't_ a normal and Dame-Tsuna thing was the way she was carrying herself.

Dame-Tsuna was still clumsy, as evidenced by her pathetic fall on the stairs, but now those moments of clumsiness didn't seem to characterize her actions in so much as they seemed to be exceptions to them.

He hadn't seen her much yet that day, in fact, all he had seen was her falling down the stairs and then talking to him a bit before she froze at the sound of their mother's voice.

But what he had seen was beyond strange.

It couldn't be quite said that Yoshimune was the sharpest tool in the box. He had good grades, always scoring above an 80, much to his mother's pride. He was also the soccer team's ace and was pretty popular at school because of it, but… he couldn't quite be described as _observant._

But he had always watched his sister, often eagerly anticipating her next humiliation.

And this was too obvious to miss.

Instead of hunching in on herself, using her bangs to cover her eyes and not looking at anywhere for too long, Tsunako now stood proudly, shoulders pulled back, chin lifted up, posture done so that she was at the maximum height her rather unimpressive stature would allow her.

Beyond the way she stood was the aura she was emitting. She seemed to exude this aura of absolute comfort with oneself.

And Dame-Tsuna wasn't comfortable with her own shadow – much less with who she was.

But now there was an air of dignified serenity to her.

And her _expressions._

Surprise and affection when she saw him.

Pained and frightened when she heard their mother's voice.

Desperate, like a dying man in a desert offered a drop of water, when she saw their mother appear from the kitchen.

Wonder, like she could hardly believe her eyes, after studying Nana for a few seconds.

Then, perhaps most shocking of all, steely determination, the likes of which had _no business_ appearing on Tsunako's face.

He didn't think her face was even capable of making that expression before today.

Her eyes had become hard and cold. Yet somehow Yoshimune thought he saw a flicker of a flame reflected in their caramel depths. Her mouth was set in a grim line, posture unflinching. An intimidating darkness descended upon her, and for a second, just a second-

For a second, Yoshimune felt a shiver of fear rush down his spine.

 _Stop being ridiculous,_ Yoshimune thought to himself. _This is_ Dame-Tsuna _we're talking about. She's weak, and pathetic, and definitely not capable of making anyone_ afraid. _Definitely not_ me _,_ Yoshimune scoffed at the very idea. _I imagined the whole thing._

For the rest of breakfast, a small, placid smile appeared on Tsunako's face. If Yoshimune hadn't been paying attention, he'd have thought Dame-Tsuna was daydreaming, but the intensity of her gaze under those half-hooded, firmly settled on Yoshimune and his mother, belied her appearance of inattention. She was studying them.

 _Stop it, you're imagining things again,_ Yoshimune scolded. _Dame-Tsuna is being her usual Dame self, and I'm still half-asleep and making stuff up. I can't just waste my time thinking about Dame-Tsuna._

And with that final thought, Yoshimune dismissed Dame-Tsuna and started thinking about the soccer game he and his friends had later. He wouldn't think about Dame-Tsuna again for a long, long time.

* * *

For the rest of breakfast, Tsunako was silent, choosing to listen to her family's interactions instead of participating.

It had been a long time since she had acted recklessly – now she took the time to observe and actually think about things before she acted. This approach, pounded into her by an incredulous and secretly worried Draco ("Honestly, Potter, do you have to be such a bloody gryffindork? How on Merlin's magical Earth are you even still _alive_ when you rush into every mess you can get your hands on like a headless chicken! Now sit down and at least _pretend_ to think up a plan!"), was only cemented when the smallest of her mistakes could result in the death of dozens of her soldiers – her friends – her _people._

Tsunako had quickly learned of the consequences of thoughtless actions.

From her observations over breakfast, Tsunako learned a few things about her family.

She learned that her first impression of Nana as a caring and rather air-headed woman was right on the mark. The woman spent all of breakfast with a smile on her face, simply happy to be eating with her family and talking. She also didn't notice Tsunako's silence – the girl figured this could be either due to the woman's air headedness or to the fact that Tsunako usually _was_ silent.

Tsunako also learned that Yoshimune had a soccer competition coming up soon, and he was very excited about it. She also found out that, unlike her past self, Yoshimune was quite proficient academically, was good at several sports apart from soccer, and was fairly popular at school.

Tsunako was so _proud._

Nana obviously was as well, as the woman would gush over her son's accomplishments and praise him after every sentence he finished.

But then, Tsunako got the impression that Nana would lavish the same amount of praise from winning the soccer competition as taking out the trash. Or even getting dressed.

The intentions were obviously good, though, and that was all that mattered.

Tsunako also couldn't help noticing that Yoshimune didn't seem to like her very much, if the constant barrage of insults directed her way were any indication. Sibling rivalry perhaps? She remembered that Ron had a phase where he was resentful of his older brothers.

Well, Tsunako would simply have to work on that. This was the first time she had a sibling, she wasn't about to let them have a bad relationship.

Tsunako was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of a chair screeching over the floor.

"Eh? Aren't you going to finish your breakfast?" Nana asked, although she didn't seem surprised. So Yoshimune leaving early was a normal occurrence, then.

"No, Mom, I'm going to play soccer with the guys today!" The blonde boy huffed. "I _told_ you."

"Oh, that's wonderful! Yoshimune has so many friends!" She beamed.

"Yeah, I'm not like Dame-Tsuna. People actually _like_ me." Yoshimune shot the silent Tsunako a superior look, which given his apparent animosity towards her was not unexpected, but what _was_ unexpected was the small giggle Nana gave.

Shoving down the brief flash of hurt, Tsunako sighed.

She really _would_ have to do something to mend her relationship with her brother. And perhaps her mother, as well.

Tsunako smiled.

She didn't care about her brother's dislike or her mother's apparent amusement at his insults to her.

Tsunako had a _family._

All else would be resolve itself in time.

* * *

It was a little after Yoshimune had left the house, and Tsunako and her mother were doing the dishes in silence.

"M- Mama?" Tsunako cursed internally. She wasn't sure where the term had come from. The pre-Hyacinth Tsunako had called Nana 'Kaa-chan'. Tsunako knew this and had been determined to copy it in order to avoid suspicion, yet somehow the Italian word for mother had slipped out.

Perhaps it was a consequence of spending so much time with the Zabinis? This was what happened when you became best friends with your Italian lover's mother, she supposed.

Luckily, Nana was oblivious and hadn't noticed the slip.

"Do you- I-I mean, can I-" Tsunako nearly growled at herself. She never stuttered. Even when she had been living under the Dursleys, with the constant threat of being locked up in her cupboard for the entire day should she say or do something wrong, she had never stuttered. If Aunt Cissa could see her now she'd definitely receive a lecture, "Can I help you with lunch?"

Nana's eyes widened marginally - and for a second the vulnerable, orphaned part of Tsunako was afraid the woman would reject the offer - before a beatific smile erupted on the woman's face.

"Of course, Tsu-chan!" Tsunako swore she saw flowers manifest themselves behind the woman, dancing around her head gaily. Perhaps magic did exist in this dimension? "Mama's always happy to have a cute little helper!"

"Here, you can start by cutting these," Her mother – and Tsunako still got a little thrill at calling her that – cheerfully passed her some vegetables to chop up (a rather irresponsible decision to give a 7 year old a large knife on Nana's part, but Tsunako didn't notice as she had been chopping up food at the Dursleys since she was five), and they spent the rest of the morning cooking a feast for lunch.

Observing Nana's supreme comfort in the kitchen, the way she danced about it, gathering ingredients without even having to look at them, chopping things up so efficiently that had it been anyone other than Tsunako they'd have trouble even seeing her hands, somehow knowing exactly how much time to leave the sauce simmering or the fish cooking without using any sort of time-keeper, Tsunako was awed.

She suspected it already due to the delicious omelettes from breakfast, but _oh my._

This woman was a cooking genius!

Even Molly hadn't been this good!

For the first time in her life, Tsunako was grateful to the Dursleys. Without them, she wouldn't have spent years cooking for a family composed of two walruses that could eat their weight twice over and a neurotic horse that would not allow even one dish to be prepared with anything other than the absolute perfection that her "Dudley Diddums deserves!".

If that hadn't been the case, Tsunako was sure she'd be too intimidated by Nana's supreme cooking skills to cook alongside her, much less be able to keep up with her.

But it _had_ been the case, and so both Nana and Tsunako spent the rest of the day happily cooking side by side.

* * *

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, covered by just enough clouds so that the heat became pleasant and not cloying. The wind had settled on a gentle breeze, not so strong as to be bothersome but not so weak as to be ineffective, refreshing all of those outdoors. The grass in the park was a vibrant green, the flowers were blooming, the birds were singing, the children laughing as they chased after each other gaily.

It was a beautiful day, and Kurokawa Hana was _mad._

Not because it was a beautiful day, of course. She was much too mature to get mad at the _weather,_ thank you very much – she wasn't like those monkeys that posed as her classmates.

No, Kurokawa Hana was mad because now, a week and a half before classes started, her mother had suddenly decided that Hana had not seen any of her friends all summer – which was grossly untrue, as she had seen Kyoko, her best friend, several times, and was forced into contact with her… exuberant brother because of it – and so had to make up for this seemingly "unhealthy isolation" in the last two weeks and _socialize_ with other children her age.

So her mother had taken Hana to the local park.

And _left her there._

Oh, Hana knew that she'd be back soon. Usually her mother would come sometime in the afternoon, but Hana had ensured that she'd come back at least for lunch, as the girl had strategically 'forgotten' her bento in her mother's car, and her mother was all kinds of evil for forcing her to spend time with the nitwits she was subjected to most of the year during one of her moments of brief respite, but she wouldn't let her daughter starve at lunch. Once she noticed the bento, she'd come to the park to hand it to Hana.

Hana planned to use every second of that interaction to plead her case to her mother on exactly why it was unacceptable to leave her at the park for even one more second.

She was going to become a lawyer in the future; she would convince her mother.

As it was, Hana had already spent the better half of the last hour evading her schoolmates and smiling through her aggravation at the complete and utter nonsense that spewed out of their mouths.

She had even forced herself to sit with a group of girls who were in her grade, so that the watching mothers in the park could report to Hana's mother next time they saw her how her daughter was _socializing._

What Hana hadn't taken into account was the consequences of said act. For a full twenty minutes, Hana had been subjected to gossip on what girl had a crush on what monkey, the coolest new Barbie that had come out this summer, and the absolute "coolness and dreaminess and- and- KYAAAAAA" of Yamamoto Takeshi. And the high-pitched squeals that inevitably followed the last subject.

And she wasn't even going to talk about how the monkeys tried to get her to play with them.

Kurokawa Hana was _done._

No one could accuse Hana of being a particularly patient person, and it wasn't going to start today.

Hana moved across the park with quick, perfunctory strides.

She was trying to find an isolated spot for herself where she could sit down and be _left alone_ because she was _so done_ dealing with screeching monkeys and their incessant demands to _come play._

"Stupid monkeys! Stupid Mom! _Go mingle with the other children, Hana_ she says. _You can't spend all summer reading your books, Hana_ , she says. _You shouldn't be so harsh on the others, Hana._ Ha! _She's_ not the one who has to deal with insufferable children with the mentalities of _toddlers_ for most of the year! She's not the one who has to tolerate _monkeys_ with their sticky, unwashed, spit-covered hands and mud splattered faces and _never-ending idiotic babble._ I can feel my IQ getting lower just by breathing the same air as them!" Hana ranted as she made her way through the park. "I bet she wouldn't last even _five minutes_ with them! If she had to spend any time at all within hearing of their high-pitched, incessant screeching she'd award me a medal – no, sainthood! – for spending seven hours at school with them _every day_! I swear, if one of them lays their disgusting, sticky hands on me _one more time_ I'll cut them clean off, separate the fingers, grind them into animal feed, travel to the zoo and feed them to the monkeys there. It'll be cannibalism! And then I'll peel of the skin from the rest of their bodies and turn them into high-end purses! I'm sure monkey hide purses will sell well _somewhere._ I'll claim it was self-defense. If I hadn't acted I'd have died via sheer _idiocy._ "

Hana stopped when, after angrily shoving some bushes out of the way (which actually scratched her arms and hurt a bit, but she was too irritated to notice), she almost stumbled upon a pair of legs.

A pair of legs that was, inevitably, attached to a body.

There, sitting under the shade of a tree with her legs stretched out in front of her, was one of the girls from Hana's class.

The girl had short, fluffy brown hair that Hana had to physically rein in the urge to touch. Large, caramel eyes were framed by thick black lashes and set on high cheekbones dusted by what seemed to be permanently rosy cheeks that Hana had never seen outside of a Renoir painting. Pale, delicate limbs led to small, soft-looking hands and small, unpainted nails. To finish off the ethereal picture, she was wearing a soft blue dress with bright yellow chicks on it.

The girl vaguely reminded her of a doll.

The girl's eyes were marginally widened, probably in slight surprise at having heard Hana's impassioned rant on being forced to socialize with the idiots her age when she could be reading a perfectly good book.

And was that amusement in her eyes?

Damn, she'd probably heard everything.

The girl on the grass gave a soft laugh, like the chiming of bells, and Hana flushed in embarrassment.

And when Hana was embarrassed she usually became aggressive.

"And what are you laughing at?" Hana asked rudely, glaring at the sitting girl. Hana was confident in her intimidation skills, and soon the girl would stop laughing, start cowering, and forget about the whole embarrassing moment.

"Your irritation at our peers, mostly. And your death threats. It has been a while, since I last heard such… inventive threats." The girl said honestly, not intimidated in the slightest. Hana needed to brush up her skills if little girls with baby blue little chick dresses didn't even react to her glare. "I will admit that our classmates can be a bit… rambunctious, at times, however."

"Rambunctious?" Hana snorted. That was _one_ word for them, though certainly not the word _she'd_ use. "More like deathly annoying." Now that was a word she'd use.

"More like deathly for them, if your threats are any indication."

Hana snorted again, a corner of her mouth twitching in an effort to suppress an amused grin.

"Please do tell me when you plan on killing them at least a day in advance, however, so that I can be there to watch. I'll be sure to bring popcorn," The girl continued, faux-earnest. "How much does a monkey hide purse cost, by the way? And can I get boots from the same material?"

Hana openly smirked, "I'll cut you a deal as long as you tell the police it was self-defense."

"They were clearly attacking you," The girl replied, face still mock-serious, "The way they wielded their weapons- what was it again? – ah, yes, the way they wielded their idiocy was indubitably in a threatening manner. Had you not acted your IQ could have dropped to dangerously low levels."

Hana had long given up containing her grin at the girl's solemn words and was openly smiling.

"I don't think my mother realizes she's endangering my life by bringing me to this park," Hana added.

The caramel-eyed girl laughed again, and Hana found herself once again fascinated by the soft, bell-like sound.

Coupled with the girl's fluffy locks, rosy cheeks, and childish dress, even Hana had to admit it was frankly really adorable.

"The park isn't so bad once you move away from the noise," the girl defended, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the fresh air. She was the picture of serenity, as though the world, including Hana, calmed itself around her.

Hana could hardly muster the effort to be irritated at her classmates anymore.

Slowly, Hana sat down by the girl, leaning back on the same tree trunk the girl was resting her head on, eyes still closed despite the commotion.

Sitting on the grass, looking up at the sky through the tree leaves, feeling the gentle breeze in her hair and the warmth that the girl emanated beside her, Hana felt strangely at peace.

 _It really is a beautiful day._

The girls spent some time – Hana wasn't sure how much; it could have been seconds and it could have been an hour – in comfortable silence, watching the leaves of the trees dance in the wind, hearing the birds sing, far away from the noise of the other children.

Eventually, not due to a need for conversation, but out of sheer curiosity, Hana broke the silence.

"Who are you?" Hana asked, before fighting down a flush again at the rude way she voiced that question. She wasn't used to catering to others' feelings, a straight-forward person that said what she thought and had no patience for those who couldn't deal with it.

But, for some reason, she cared about what this girl thought.

Hana decided not to worry about it. If the girl decided to leave because of Hana's way of being, then she wasn't worth getting to know better anyway.

Which was the reason she asked the question, to get to know the other girl and to figure out exactly who she was.

Hana knew the girl was from her class, but for some reason couldn't quite pinpoint who it was. Which was weird, because they were a small class, in a small school in a small town where classmates had been together since they were about four years old. And Hana's memory was excellent – she should've remembered the girl's name.

The girl didn't take offense to Hana's tone, instead slowly opening her caramel eyes and looking at Hana amusedly.

A small part of Hana breathed a sigh of relief, even as another was indignant that she was constantly providing a source of amusement to this mysterious girl without meaning to.

"I'm Sawada Tsunako. You're Kurokawa-san, right?" The now identified Sawada asked, smiling.

And _Oh, wow, okay_. What a smile. It felt like sunshine on Hana's skin, warming her up so much that she was blushing again.

The precocious girl was momentarily dazed by the soft, sun-like smile, and had to blink a couple of times to recover.

Once she was finally able to move past the unexpectedly dazzling smile, Hana was able to assimilate the information that came with it.

Her eyes widened.

This was _Dame-Tsuna?_

 _No way._

Hana looked over the girl again.

Same fluffy brown hair that seemed to defy gravity and stick up in whichever way. Same pale skin, same fragile body that looked like it would shatter if you even brushed it the wrong way.

Yes, Hana supposed that, physically, this girl looked exactly like Dame-Tsuna.

But she was _nothing like her_.

It was often talked about in school how the Sawada siblings were polar opposites – one athletic and popular, the other clumsy and, well, _un_ popular.

While Hana had never truly interacted with Dame-Tsuna, she had seen her from a distance. The girl hardly looked anyone in the eyes, walked hunched in on herself, and had an incredibly irritating stutter.

This girl sitting beside her, however, was confident in a calm, understated way. She viewed the world at a distance, secure in the knowledge of who she was. Her posture was not hunched, but straight, and seemed ready to move at any moment. Her words weren't rushed or stuttered, but well pronounced, so that each one was perfectly enunciated and heard by the audience (Hana felt she probably gave great speeches). And there just seemed to be a mature air about her, as though she had seen the most beautiful and most horrifying things the world had to offer, and had come to accept it despite it all.

Hana paused. Where had that come from? She was no poet, wasn't prone to such fanciful ways of saying things. Hana usually just stated things as they were – with concrete facts, not wild and romantic speculations.

Maybe it was all that stress from dealing with the children. They really _were_ lowering her IQ.

Looking at the girl again, Hana was struck by her eyes.

 _They're different._

While Dame-Tsuna's eyes were an ordinary caramel, this girl's eyes were clear and almost shone with the force of her personality. There were glowing orange flecks swimming a sea of warm caramel-brown, mesmerizing those who watched. These eyes were strong, clear, confident. Not at all like Dame-Tsuna.

But this girl was undeniably Sawada Tsunako.

And Sawada was now looking at her with open amusement again.

 _Damn, I've been silent for a while now, haven't I? Who would've thought it was Dame-Tsuna that would make me speechless._

If Hana could claim to owning any kind of weapon, it would be her tongue. She was never without a sharp retort, a witty comment, a blunt insult. And yet, she found herself absolutely speechless before this walking, talking paradox that was Sawada Tsunako.

Hana's gaze lowered until she saw what was on the talking paradox's lap, having somehow missed it before; too focused on the girl's expressions and their conversation.

"Are you- Are you _reading?_ " Hana asked. Reading was perhaps the last thing _anyone_ would imagine Dame-Tsuna doing her free time. The only thing that trumped reading or bettering herself in any way was Dame-Tsuna actually confronting somebody. The day _that_ happened, pigs would fly.

"Hm?" Tsunako looked distractedly at the book perched on her lap, still open at a page near the end. "I suppose I am."

Seeing the title of the book, Hana did a double take.

"Is that _Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan_?" She asked incredulously.

"Ah, yes. Unfortunately, Japanese History is my weakest subject, so I thought I'd read up a bit before classes started again." Sawada said sheepishly, as though she _wasn't_ reading a book that would only appear on the reading lists of university students.

Hana didn't know about Tsunako's grades in Japanese History, but Dame-Tsuna's results in Math were something of a horror legend at their school. If Japanese History was even _worse_ than Math, then just how bad _were_ they?

But then if she was so bad at Japanese History, why on Earth did she start with such an advanced book? Why not start with their class textbook, which was much more basic?

"I'm quite enjoying it, though. Truly, Japanese history is so fascinating, I wonder why I've never read anything on it before-"

"I- I can tutor you." Someone interrupted. It took Hana a second to realize those words had come out of _her_ mouth.

"Really?" Sawada was visibly surprised. "I wouldn't want to bother you, Kurokawa-san-"

"Hana." Hana interrupted the girl for the second time in as many minutes.

Sawada's eyes widened a bit in surprise before she smiled. Hana, refusing to fall for the same thing twice, steadfastly avoided looking directly at that smile in order to not be dazzled again.

"Hana-san, then." Sawada said softly, eyes warm. "Then please call me Tsuna."

"Sure." Hana agreed, fighting the urge to look away in embarrassment. Looking away would mean losing, and Hana did not lose! "Tsuna."

The two girls stood looking at each other in the park, only the sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds surrounding them, and the sense of peace Hana felt when resting next to Sawada – no, Tsuna – under the shade of the tree came back.

"So this is where you were hiding, Hana."

Both Hana and Tsuna turned to find an elegant woman in a black suit and matching high heels standing near the bushes that Hana had initially come through. The woman had shoulder-length silky black hair, a sharp, angular face, and was carrying an office satchel of some sort that added to the serious, professional air the woman sported.

It seemed her mother had finally arrived.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, leaving your bento in the car like that," Her mother accused. "I had to get someone to cover for me at the office so I could come and give it to you."

Hana wasn't worried. The office practically lived in fear of her mother – if she asked someone to cover for her, at least five people would volunteer in order to avoid her getting mad. Hell, if her mother had asked someone to drive to the park to bring Hana her bento, they'd have done so without complaint.

In the future, Hana was going to be like that too. But it wouldn't just be the office that would leap at her orders – it would be the whole company.

"And really, would it kill you to interact a bit with the other children your age? It's not healthy for you to stay isolated like this," Hana moved to interrupt, as she very clearly was _not_ isolated and was actually sitting with another girl, whom she was pretty sure her mother hadn't seen yet, but her mother held a finger at her, "And don't you dare say anything about Kyoko. Kyoko is a darling, but she is just _one person_ and you need more." Her mother gave an exasperated sigh, "You can't stay cooped up in your room with your books all day.

"But you've made your point," Her mother sighed. "So stubborn. We can never get you to do anything you don't want, can we? I don't know where you get it from," Hana clearly got it from her mother, but who was she to break the woman's bubble. "Don't even open your mouth young lady, I know you too well by now. You want to go home now. You're going to plead your case. You won't stop talking and presenting me with points until I concede. You probably have a power point presentation tucked away somewhere. I suppose if I don't take you home now you'll just spend the rest of the day hiding away from the other children or insulting them in some way or other." The woman rubbed at her temples, as though trying to ease a coming headache. "Very well. You win this time. We can go home now. You'll be interacting with others at school in a week or so anyway-"

"I want to stay." Hana stated. Really, she had to interrupt; her mother wasn't allowing her to get a word in.

Hana looked at Tsuna, who was observing the mother-daughter interaction with a small smile. And was she biting her cheek to keep from laughing?

Realizing she hadn't heard a reply from her mother, Hana turned to look at her and found the woman gaping, speechless.

 _Well, at least I'm not the only one made speechless today._

"You- You want to _stay_?" She repeated.

Hana bristled. What was with that tone? Was it that much of a surprise? Couldn't her mother see that she was with another girl?

Tsuna was much too intriguing for Hana to leave now. She had to stay and talk to the girl more, try to figure her out.

And they also needed to set up a schedule for their Japanese History tutoring sessions.

"Yeah, I want to stay."

Finally, her mother's eyes landed on Tsunako, still leaning on the tree trunk, open book in her lap.

"O-Oh." Her mother stared a bit, eyes quickly flicking between Hana and Tsunako. After what seemed like an eternity of that where Hana had to resist scowling at her mother – she wasn't _that_ antisocial. She was perfectly capable of meeting new people! – her mother finally seemed to recover. "Okay. Right. You want to stay."

Then, as though the idea that her daughter was willingly socializing with someone else had finally registered, the professional and stern-looking woman started giggling. "I'll leave you two to it then. Right." She had turned away and started walking in the direction she came from, before suddenly stopping, as though remembering something. "Oh! Wait, Hana, here is your bento." She said, handing Hana a bento wrapped in purple cloth. Then, looking at Tsuna, who had still not said anything since her mother appeared, she smiled, "Be sure to come over to our house someday, okay? It's an open invitation – you can come anytime! Hana and I would love to have you!"

Tsuna smiled at the woman, inclining her head in as much of a bow as her sitting position would allow, "Thank you, Mrs. Kurokawa. I would very much enjoy that. I'm sure I'll have ample opportunity as Hana has offered to tutor me in Japanese History."

Eyes widening in delight, Hana's mother's smile somehow became larger.

"Well then, I'll be seeing you soon." Then, with a last almost giddy wave, and a continued air of faint disbelief, Hana's mother walked away.

Personally, Hana didn't understand the woman's disbelief. It was perfectly clear why Hana wanted to stay.

Hana had just found someone her age who was capable of intelligent conversation.

She'd like to see anyone _try_ to pry Hana away from her now.

* * *

 **A/N** : Be sure to leave a review if you like it! Or if you have any suggestions or ideas for where it's going next!


	3. Discovering Oneself

**Disclaimer** : I do not own KHR or Harry Potter, unfortunately.

 **A/N** : I want to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed this fic! I'm so, so happy with all the support I've received! This one is for you guys! I hope you like it!

* * *

It was a little before five in the morning, a few minutes passed sunrise in Namimori. All was quiet. It was the kind of quiet that seemed oddly sacred, that made you hold your breath and sit as still as possible, like it would be a truly wrong thing to speak in anything above the whisper of a mouse and break the silence.

In the forest of Namimori, all was quiet. The birds, as though sensing the inherent wrongness disturbing the quiet would be, had yet to begin chirping. The wind had respectfully decided to wait a while longer before blowing and rustling the leaves. Even the squirrels seemed to tread lightly on small feet to avoid making any sounds.

On the streets of Namimori, all was quiet. Dogs seemed to be faintly stirring, none mustering up the energy to quite bark yet, instead yawning with large mouths and long tongues, but no noise. There were no cars or buses or even bikes. No one was walking. There was not a soul to be seen or heard.

In the houses of Namimori, all was quiet. The adults were mostly sleeping, with the rare morning riser silently reading a book over tea. The children were fast asleep, having gleefully taken advantage of the fact that they still had a few days before school started back up again and all using the opportunity to sleep late the previous night.

All except one child, that is.

A lone figure jogged through the streets of Namimori. The soft pitter-patter of their tennis shoes on the pavement didn't break the silence of the town as much as it emphasized it. As though giving the quietness a frame so it could be better admired, as one would do with a great work of art.

On closer inspection, one would find the jogger to be quite young indeed, eight years old at the very most. Those who looked would be impressed at the show of discipline in one so young, perhaps reminiscing about their own childhoods so devoid of said discipline, and then shaking their heads at the focus of this newer generation. As it was, no one was awake, and so no one looked, and there was no shaking of heads.

The young jogger had wide, doe-like eyes encased by long, dark eyelashes. Her hair was gathered up into an elegant ponytail that bounced with every step she took. Her face was flushed, from the morning chill or the exercise or both, perhaps, as small legs kept eating up the distance at a steady pace.

It was a calm, peaceful scene.

As Tsunako jogged through her neighborhood, her mind whirled, the chaos raging within her a sharp contrast to the serenity of the scene.

Tsunako was having very much mixed feelings.

Ever since she had woken up in her home – a very much normal place. But not obsessively normal like the Dursleys's house had been, rather just comfortingly normal – she was slowly getting used to not only an entire new life, but a new culture and language as well.

For most things, her seven year old self would cover. Without thinking about it, Tsunako removed her shoes before stepping inside the house. She somehow understood everything that was being said, even if sometimes her distinctly non-Japanese speaking adult brain took a little longer to compute it, and she felt herself have an accent on certain words. And when her mom insisted they go shopping and she try out a kimono, Tsunako's small hands had somehow known exactly how to set up the strange garment and tie the elaborate bow at the back, even if a bit clumsily.

But she was having very much mixed feelings. She knew the way she acted now was not the same way she acted before the soul-merging. The way she talked, walked, reacted to things – everything was very much different from how things were before Hyacinth (the warrior, the leader, the most powerful woman in the Wizarding World and the _27 year old adult_ ) became Tsunako, a normal seven-year-old civilian girl. It was something she was trying to tone down, but knew could never fully stop.

In fact, she was fairly sure she wasn't even doing a particularly good job.

Tsunako had gotten better at lying over the years – much better; one couldn't be a very good politician, or survive being friends with Isadora Zabini, without lying with the best of them – but pretending to be a seven year old was beyond even her abilities. She didn't even really have anyone to base herself off of; she hardly ever saw her brother and she didn't get the impression that Hana, whom she had come to like surprisingly quickly, was an average seven year old. There were, of course, the twenty-some children that played at the park almost every day, but frankly Tsunako couldn't muster the energy to deal with that many children at once, instead opting to sit away from everyone else and catch up on her studies in Japanese History under the shade of a tree.

She also only had a vague impression of what Tsunako was like before the soul-merging. Looking through the young girl's memories was akin to watching a movie – you learned more about the character, yes, and even understood some of her ideas, thoughts, and emotions, but not enough to be able to convincingly act like her, much less live like her.

Eventually, Tsunako had resolved to explain away her shift in character as a sudden maturity brought on by summer vacation. The increase in her grades and abilities would be attributed to intense studying and training sessions over the summer. A lot could change in two months, after all. Tsunako was sure that her explanations would be accepted rather easily. No one would care enough to delve deeper into the issue.

But that would only serve for classmates, teachers, and other acquaintances. No one truly close to her.

So why hadn't anyone noticed anything?

Her brother she could excuse. He had spent most of the last week at friends' houses, something that was apparently the norm, as Nana didn't bat an eyelash at his absence (Although Nana didn't bat an eyelash at many things, so perhaps that wasn't a good measure).

Nana, as well, she could pardon. The woman had a caring heart but was really rather air-headed. This wasn't the air-headedness of Luna, whose seemingly nonsensical words were full of wisdom that didn't make sense at the time you heard it, but would in the following months, but rather a true air-headedness that was largely oblivious to everything around her. Tsunako was almost impressed. She'd never seen anything quite like it.

(The academic part of her wondered what performing _Legillemency_ on the woman would be like – not that she ever would, but it would be interesting to see exactly what went on in her head).

But where were the previous Tsunako's friends?

Tsunako had spent many hours lying in her bed, trying to filter through her memories and understand who she was before the soul-merging, but for some reason she couldn't find any recent memories where the previous Tsunako was interacting positively with other people her age. Instead, her only interactions with her peers seemed to consist of them laughing at the poor girl, pushing her around, and her watching them at a distance with a feeling of crushing loneliness.

 _Well, I suppose I have to face the truth eventually._

The previous Tsunako didn't have any friends here.

She obviously didn't even have a good relationship with her brother – which Tsunako was working on, really, but it was hard to do when the brother in question was _never there._

The tactician in her was grateful for her friendless state. It would mean less people knew her intimately – it would be easier to lie to everyone and explain away the changes in her personality. No complications with inventing sudden injuries to the head as explanations necessary.

But the little orphan girl who had tried so desperately to make friends in elementary school only to have all of them be scared away by either Dudley's fists or parents' whispers of 'delinquent' in her was devastated.

Even in parallel dimensions, Tsunako was destined to be alone in the first years of her life.

 _It's not so bad_ , Tsunako scolded herself. She didn't quite have the patience to deal with seven year olds on an intimate scale anyway. And she had always been comfortable in her own company, enjoying the quiet the solitude would bring.

And honestly, she was still dealing with the loss of not only her friends – and friends who were really family in all but blood – but her entire world. She was sure that Death had manipulated her emotions or view in some way so that it was a distant kind of sorrow and pain that overcame her when she thought of her last world, and honestly she had sensed her death coming for years and had had plenty of time to get adjusted to the idea of leaving all that she had ever known, but it was still no easy thing. Every once in a while, she would think of Hermione's penchant to lecture her about the strangest things she'd literally never need to know in any sort of situation imaginable, but would sit through dutifully, or she'd trip and automatically turn to her left, expecting Draco to be there with a "Merlin, you have all the grace of a newborn sniffler" on his lips but a firm, steadying hand on her shoulder, or she'd see a child on the street and immediately his black hair and brown eyes would morph into blue hair and eyes of Avada Kedavra green, just like hers, and it was all she could do not to run to her godson and apologize for not being there to watch him grow up and become the wonderful man she knew he would be. And every so often it was like looking over the abyss, peering into the darkness there and deciding whether or not too jump only to find out the darkness had hands and arms and teeth and it was pulling you in and you know you should stop it but it would be _so very easy to-_

Tsunako stopped her mind from venturing there. Those were dangerous thoughts, and she wasn't quite ready to confront them yet.

Anchoring herself to this reality as soon as possible was a priority. Perhaps some peace and quiet were exactly what she needed.

"EXTREEEEEEEEEMMMMMEEEEE!"

In the forest of Namimori, all was no longer quiet. The birds, startled, loudly flew out in hoards at the echoing cry, the wind took its cue to begin blowing in earnest, the squirrels squeaked and rushed up their trees.

On the streets of Namimori, all was no longer quiet. Dogs started barking with enthusiasm, sometimes running around and bumping into parked cars and bikes. The sprinklers turned on and lazily napping cats hissed and screeched at the sudden water.

In the houses of Namimori, all was no longer quiet. Adults gently stirred, giving loud yawns or viciously muttered complaints at the Sun for rising and starting a new day. Only the children, in the way children had of sleeping through anything and everything, remained dutifully asleep and silent, apart from the occasional snore. No noise, no matter how loud or exuberant, could stop them from gleefully taking advantage of the fact that they still had a few days before school started back up, and all were using the opportunity to sleep in.

All except two children, that is.

* * *

Tsunako was a strange combination of amused, surprised, and fond.

She was sure she would have been completely overwhelmed had she not had to deal with the Weasley twins and their penchant to cause chaos via pranks wherever they set foot, Hagrid and his love of potentially fatality-inducing magical creatures, Collin Creevey and his incessant and kind of slightly more than slightly creepy stalking and fanboying over her, Isadora Zabini and her tendency to seduce anything with a pulse only to tease them relentlessly then discard them like one would a used tissue, and… Well, really, the list could go on forever. In fact, she could probably make a separate list just for her time as Minister of Magic. And one for her time as Hogwarts. And maybe one for her friendship with Isadora. Now that she thought about it, Tsunako had had to deal with a lot of crazy things in her past life.

The point of all this being that all the madness of her life as Hyacinth had helped her fight against the sheer overwhelming presence of Sasagawa Ryohei.

Although, to be honest, she didn't really fight against it. Tsunako embraced it with greedy arms and a ready smile. The boy's enthusiasm was refreshing in the face of her tired solemnity.

Tsunako masterfully ignored the small voice in her head that told her that at this point she was simply too used to chaos and madness in her life, and the lack of it in the past week had been putting her on edge. She didn't really do normal – something the Dursleys would no doubt more than agree with.

A few minutes ago, Tsunako had bumped into Sasagawa Ryohei while jogging – figuratively and literally.

She had woken early that morning to do her daily exercises, which included jogging and sprinting around her neighborhood, in order to be back home in time to help Nana with breakfast. Training had been a habit ingrained in her by the war, and one she hadn't stopped even when it was long over. She found the exercise served her well, allowing her to be more prepared and agile in the face of assassination attempts or, even more horrid, overzealous fans.

Constant Vigilance had well and truly become her motto.

Nowadays, it just felt strange when she didn't do her exercises. As though she was simultaneously more sluggish and tenser with unused energy. Besides, her current body was pathetically weak, something Tsunako wouldn't abide by, and even a slow jog had her heaving in forty minutes. And running was what her body was best at – she didn't even want to think about her results in upper body and leg strength.

There was a lot to work on.

But progress was happening. The first day she started exercising she had been unable to jog for even twenty-five minutes without doubling over and almost coughing her lungs out. But surely and steadily, by waking up early and running around the neighborhood twice every morning, her body was adapting and becoming stronger.

It just required patience.

Lots of patience.

She found that her morning ritual also allowed her time to think. When she was in the house, she was almost always with Nana, helping the woman with cooking or other chores, and generally just basking in a mother's loving warmth. And when she was with Hana, she had to concentrate on acting like a seven year old, as she had a bad habit of slipping when with the mature girl. Running alone allowed her time to collect her thoughts and finally think things through.

That morning, she had been particularly immersed in her thoughts. She had also not expected anyone, much less a child, to be up at that hour. And by the time she had noticed, it was too late, as her reflexes and speed in this new body were ten times slower than those in her past body as Hyacinth.

Tsunako would later blame these three things for what happened next.

Torn from her thoughts by a loud "EXTREEEEEEEEEMMMMMEEEEE", which she was fairly sure had woken up the entire of Namimori, Tsunako had just enough time to turn her head towards the source of the sound and brace herself for impact before being tackled into the ground by a blur of red and white.

As she was falling down onto the street pavement, Tsunako only had one thought:

Moody could never find out about this.

The two children spent a few seconds groaning on the pavement, lying in a tangle of limbs before the red and white blur, as though realizing what had just happened, jumped up with a start.

Finally, Tsunako got a good look at the red and white blur that had crashed into her. As it turned out, the red and white blur was a young boy. The red came from a sports jacket that he was wearing, and the white came from – surprisingly enough for someone who wasn't yet fifty – his hair.

The boy also happened to be sporting a comically dramatic horrified look on his face.

"SORRY! SORRY! I'M EXTREMELY SORRY!" The boy shouted, repeatedly bowing to the still fallen and disoriented form of Tsunako.

Giving a slightly strained smile – because _ow_ , this new body of hers was fragile, and how on Earth was this kid so fast and heavy?! – Tsunako gently got up from her spot on the pavement, dusting off her leggings. With a small twinge, she knew that she'd have bruises all over the right side of her body, on which she had fallen, and noticed a cut on the palm of her hand where she had feebly attempted to soften her fall. The blood was slowly trickling down her arm, and Tsunako made a mental note to find a place to wash it before going back home. The girl was once again made grateful for her mother's obliviousness – the woman probably wouldn't notice if Tsunako wore a bandage for the next few days.

"Ah, don't worry about it." Tsunako smiled for real this time, small but genuine. The boy was simply so earnest in his apology, it was impossible not to. "These things happen from time to time."

Honestly, it was practically her fault. She was an experienced war veteran – she wasn't supposed to be surprised by _anyone_ , much less a loud, rambunctious white-haired child. If she had been paying attention, as she should have, none of this would have happened.

Looking up at the boy – who was a good bit taller than her, but then everyone was. Of course she'd be short in this life as well, did a dimension even exist where her parallel self _wasn't_? – Tsunako was surprised to find him staring at her face with a dazed look in his eyes and a small smile.

Tsunako stopped smiling. Had he hit his head when they crashed onto the floor? She didn't think so, but then she had been distracted at the time. The poor boy had such a dreamy look in his eyes, it could be a concussion. Should she bring him to the hospital?

Now worried, Tsunako waved a hand in front of his face. This efficiently served to wake him up from his daze, his body once again buzzing with energy.

Tsunako wondered if the boy had only two modes: Dazedly Quiet and Exuberantly… well, Exuberantly Extreme.

"AH! YOUR HAND IS EXTREMELY HURT!" The boy's face shifted to a comically dramatic horrified again, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

Tsunako couldn't resist chuckling, amused at his exuberance and a little relieved that he had finally started reacting again. "Really, don't worry about it. I'll bandage it up when I get home and it'll be good as new in a week at most." Maybe two weeks – the cut was surprisingly deep – but Tsunako wasn't going to tell him that.

The boy's comically horrified face morphed into one of comically childish awe. She swore she could see stars in his eyes at her apparent coolness in brushing off her injury so casually.

(If only he knew how very small this injury was in the scope of her life. She had received much, much worse).

"YOU ARE AN EXTREME PERSON! JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!"

Pause.

"Ah, you're hurting me." In his enthusiasm, the boy had gotten carried away and grabbed both of Tsunako's hands in his larger ones, accidentally causing the injured hand to throb harder.

Tsunako had the strangest impression that this wasn't the first time the boy had gotten carried away like that, nor would it be the last.

Releasing her hands like they had burned him (while the other way around would have been more accurate, as it was him who had injured her), the white-haired boy recovered his comically horrified face from earlier – Tsunako wondered if he'd develop a complex, constantly being horrified around her. She hoped not, she quite liked the boy – and started bowing frantically.

"AH! SORRY! I'M EXTREMELY SORRY!"

Tsunako was just about to reassure him once again that it was okay, but paused to observe the boy's following actions.

With an intensely thoughtful look on his face, the boy took three large steps back from her, resembling backwards leaps more than actual steps, as though ensuring there was a distance so that there was no chance he'd accidentally hurt her again.

Perhaps judging that three step-leaps was a bit of an exaggeration, the boy took a small step forward so that boy and girl were about five feet away from each other.

Staring into her eyes with such earnestness it almost made Tsunako blush, the boy punched the air enthusiastically before striking a pose and shouting, "JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!"

"I don't think my elementary school has a boxing club," Tsunako refuted, uninjured hand covering an amused smile.

The boy didn't even hesitate, "NEITHER DOES MINE! WE SHOULD EXTREMELY CREATE A BOXING CLUB!"

"I think I'm a bit young" – _and pathetically fragile_ , an uncharitable voice that reminded her of Moody added – "to start boxing."

"AGE DOESN'T MATTER WHEN YOU'RE EXTREME!"

"I'm not really interested in boxing."

"JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!"

Tsunako sweatdropped. Did the kid have selective hearing?

"I don't even know your name."

The boy finally seemed to falter at this, but quickly recovered. Taking two steps forward, the boy bowed to her – this time not in apology, finally – before pumping his fist in the air. Tsunako half expected him to strike another pose.

"Hi! I'm Ryohei to the EXTREME!"

Tsunako chuckled, the sound like the tinkling of bells. He was so informal, offering only his first name.

It was wonderfully refreshing.

"Hello. My name is Tsunako," Tsunako smiled.

"But you can call me Tsuna."

* * *

"You- Are you being bullied?"

Tsunako and Hana were in the latter girl's room, sitting around the low Japanese style table there and studying Japanese history, occasionally pausing to grab a snack Hana's mother had brought up at the beginning of the tutoring session, a wide smile on her face and a "you two have fun, okay? And Tsunako-chan, dear, I do insist you stay for dinner" accompanied by a "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything! Anything at all!" The two had been studying in comfortable silence when Hana had asked the question.

Tsunako looked up from the Japanese History book Hana had given her to find said black-haired girl with an intense look on her face.

It took Tsunako two slow blinks to process the question; firstly because the thought of her being the victim of something as petty as bullying these days was laughable (even though it had been true when she was a child – which she supposed she was again, damn it all to Hell), secondly because it generally wasn't the type of thing one would ask another person so suddenly and tactlessly. Or at all.

In her surprise, Tsunako spilled some of the iced green tea she was drinking on the table, and given the darkening of Hana's eyes, the mature girl had taken that as a sign of admission.

"What?" Was Tsunako's eloquent answer.

Hana's stare somehow intensified as she made a menacing noise somewhere between a huff and a growl – and was that fury in her black eyes? Because Hana was looking eerily like Hermione did during the Triwizard Tournament when everyone hated Tsunako. Which is very intimidating, if you were wondering – before pointing accusingly at Tsunako's right hand and wrist, where the sleeve of her shirt had ridden up to expose the bruises that lay under when she had reached for her cup of tea.

"Who was it?!" Hana questioned viciously, "Who did this to you?"

"I told you when I got here," Tsunako began slowly, feeling much like a human stuck in a cage with a cornered animal, trying desperately to calm it for the alternative was a very violent death, "It was a small accident. You know how clumsy I can be." That was true. Tsunako had spent much time going over the previous Tsunako's memories and she found the girl to be abominably clumsy. Enough to drive Aunt Cissa to tears, no doubt.

Quick as lightning, Hana grabbed Tsunako's wrist and pulled the sleeve up with such force Tsunako briefly wondered if the sleeve had offended the black-haired girl in some way. Of course, once the sleeve was forcibly pulled up, the litany of bruises on Tsunako's arm that she had tried so hard to hide was revealed to the world.

Tsunako expected Hana's actions to hurt her a bit, as she was fairly sure the wrist the girl had grabbed was sprained, and the jerking of her sleeve inevitably jostled her bruised arm, but they didn't. Hana's grip was firm but infinitely gentle on her wrist, as though Tsunako were made out of glass and could break with any wrong movement. And while the action of jerking her sleeve up was forceful, Hana was careful not to unnecessarily brush her hand against Tsunako's arm and cause the injured girl further pain.

"This," Hana looked pointedly at the arm she had uncovered, then looked Tsunako in the eyes with a defying glare, as though daring the brunette to contradict her, "Is not what happens after a 'small accident.'"

"A medium-sized accident, then," Tsunako retorted.

Immediately after the words left her lips, Tsunako regretted them. She had hoped to provoke some laughter, maybe even have Hana crack a smile as she had been doing so often when they were together, but instead she saw Hana's gaze narrow and her nostrils flare.

Oh, dear. Out of everything Tsunako could've said, there was possibly nothing that would've made Hana madder than 'a medium-sized accident, then'.

Well, Draco and Hermione had often complained to her that she had a tendency to incite rage, chaos, and madness in all of those around her.

Wouldn't do to change now.

* * *

Kurokawa Hana was not one of those idiots that called themselves a pursuer of justice, or a hero, or a savior, or a good Samaritan, or anything of the like by any means.

(In fact, she wasn't even sure she was a good person. While others might lose sleep over this uncertainty, it didn't bother Hana too much).

She recognized the world was unfair, and while that fact irritated her at times, she didn't live life bemoaning it.

The world was unfair. That was a fact. Hana wasn't like those monkeys who wasted time and effort complaining about it to anyone who was even half-inclined to listen.

Instead, she learned to navigate it.

She was pretty good at that.

So no, Hana wasn't any kind of goodie-two-shoes by any stretch of the imagination.

She would stop the cases of bullying she witnessed herself, and would report any suspicions she had to the teachers, but she didn't go out of her way to stop the bullying she knew happened at her school.

It wasn't her job and, really, Hana was a fundamentally selfish person. She couldn't care less if some monkeys decided to release more of their monkeyish aggression on some poor victim. It was the way of the world. She'd exhaust herself trying to change it.

Perhaps this wasn't the 'right' way to be thinking, but Hana had never much cared for what people thought was 'right' anyway.

But then- But then Tsunako reached for her glass of green tea on the table, causing the sleeve of the brunette's dress to ride up, revealing the bruises on the girl's wrist. Accompanied by the bandage on her right hand – which Tsunako had dismissed as a 'small accident' when Hana asked about it, and wasn't that the oldest trick in the book? How had Hana fallen for that?! - it presented a very suspicious picture.

Tsunako was being bullied – was being _hurt_ – by someone.

Someone was _hurting_ _Tsunako._

Hana saw red.

Who had done that? How long had that been going on?

Hana knew on an intellectual level that Dame-Tsuna had been bullied at school, but for some reason she simply couldn't imagine the Tsunako she knew - the Tsunako in front of her who was sitting reading an advanced book of Japanese History, looking like the picture of serenity – being bullied.

Because Tsunako was no longer just Dame-Tsuna, that poor kid who had somehow made herself a target of all the bullies at the school, who was more of an icon for everything not to be than an actual person.

She was Tsunako, mature and calm and capable of intelligent conversation, with a laugh like bells and eyes that gleamed glowing orange on occasion, and even though they had only really started talking a week ago she had somehow become Hana's… Hana's person-she-found-interesting-and-was-weirdly-fascinated-by-who-had-become-more-than-an-acquaintance-but-not-quite-yet-a-friend _._

 _Stop being cowardly. You're not one of those monkeys who live in denial._

Tsunako was Hana's friend.

Hana had considered Tsunako a friend almost from the first moment the caramel-eyed girl began speaking. No one was more shocked than Hana – and maybe Hana's mom – at how quickly she had gotten attached to Tsunako.

Either way, hurting Tsunako was _not okay._

Hana cursed herself for not noticing the signs earlier. Now that she had seen the bruises, she realized Tsunako had been slightly favoring her left side all day.

Damn it, what kind of friend was she if she didn't notice when her friend was being bullied?!

Hana really wasn't good at this whole friendship thing. With Kyoko, things were easy because the cheerful brunette was incapable of feeling insulted, and Hana knew her well enough to be able to predict how she'd react to things.

But Hana didn't really know Tsunako that well yet, despite giving her friend status (as of a few seconds ago), and she really didn't know how to approach this type of delicate topic.

Hana was a straightforward person. She was rational. She did not do 'comforting' well. In fact, she didn't do _sensitive_ well. She was perhaps the worst person qualified to talk to a victim of bullying. Hana wished Kyoko was there. The brunette was always very in tune with _feelings._ She was sure the sunny girl could get Tsunako to confess all and cheer the other girl up with her disarming smiles and warm manner. They'd probably end up hugging and crying into each others' arms before the day was over.

(Hana dutifully ignored the uncharitable resentment she felt towards her personable best friend when imagining the scene.)

Of course, it would certainly help if Tsunako decided to be _honest_ with Hana and admit to being bullied!

If she did, then Hana could personally make the bully's life a living hell, and continue that process with all of Tsuna's bullies until they finally got the point. Knowing the general IQ level of bullies, Hana guessed it would take many, many punishments before they got it.

She was looking forward to it.

Hana's expression must have somehow given away her bloodthirsty thoughts because Tsunako's voice took on a nervous tilt, "Really, Hana, it truly was an accident. Neither of us were looking where we were going, and then we ran into each other – quite literally - I ended up falling on my right side, but I tried to catch myself with my hand, which was really quite useless because all it did was make me cut my hand on a rock on the pavement-"

Hana's face must have reflected exactly how plausible she was finding Tsuna's story – and really, running into someone so hard that it gave you bruises all along her right arm and required a bandage the size of your face for the cut hand? Pretty unlikely. The only thing Tsuna could have said that was more unbelievable was that she fell down the stairs - because Tsunako started speaking faster, a nervous expression on her face.

"Honestly! I was running early in the morning and this kid named Ryohei was running extremely fast and wasn't looking in front of him and I wasn't paying attention-

"Wait, did you say Ryohei?" Hana questioned. Ryohei? As in Kyoko's baka older brother? If it was him, then Tsunako's story was suddenly much more plausible…

Tsunako nodded frantically, looking relieved at the stop to Hana's steadily darkening and more threatening face.

Meanwhile, Hana was deep in thought. If it really was Ryohei, then suddenly Tsunako's story was much more plausible… He _was_ the kind of idiot that would run so fast and so uncontrollably that he'd run over the only other person on the entire street. Just to make sure, though, Hana would confirm Tsunako's story with him.

And while she was at it, maybe she'd teach him a lesson about why it was a _bad idea_ to run over and hurt Hana's friends. Even if it was an accident.

* * *

"Soooo…" Hana's mother started the next morning at breakfast, a forced casualness in her voice that immediately put Hana on guard. "How are the tutoring sessions with that girl going… Tsunako-chan, was it?"

Hana wasn't sure if she should feel amused, irritated, or insulted. The last one because exactly how dumb did her mother think she was to fall for that terrible act of nonchalance?

Hana took a moment to marvel at the paradox that was her mother. The woman was the epitome of professionalism and was steadily moving up the ranks of her company through grit and intimidation as well as sheer, incomparable skill. She could make veteran businessmen burst into tears with only a few casually thrown words. She could talk circles around anyone about anything, make them believe the sky was down and the sea was up. She was said to have once successfully convinced a snake it could fly to the point it threw itself out a window.

Hana wasn't so sure about the last one, but she knew for a fact that the first two were true.

So how in the world was that the same woman as the one who was staring at her with eyes full of childish glee, trying to control a giddy smile, practically radiating badly suppressed curiosity and absolutely failing at pretending to be casual about her question which Hana _knew_ the woman had been desperate to ask for the last week.

She looked like a kid on a sugar-high that was bouncing on her chair but who was somehow convinced that her parents wouldn't notice the mysterious disappearance of the candy from their kitchen counter.

And pretending to have forgotten Tsuna's name, too! How dumb did she think Hana _was_? Did the woman completely forget that Hana had _heard_ her mother refer to Tsunako by her first name? Several times, at that? Besides, Hana was one hundred percent sure that the minute her mother had left Hana at the park with the brunette, the woman had investigated everything possible concerning the caramel-eyed girl. She probably knew the names of all of Tsunako's living family members (and some dead), Tsunako's most recent sightings outside of school, the girl's favorite snacks and drinks (This Hana was certain of, as Tsunako had commented on how the green tea mochi balls served as a snack for their tutoring session at Hana's house were her favorite), whether or not she had any pets, and Tsunako's blood type.

"It's going fine," Hana answered, just as casually.

Hana's mother's unconvincing façade of nonchalance crumbled, "Oh, honestly, Hana! Details! I want details!" She whined, sounding like a petulant child. "What is Tsunako like? What are her hobbies? Did she like the snacks I brought up? What did you two talk about?"

Hana gave her mother an incredulous look. The woman was acting like Hana had just been on her first date!

Frowning at her mother, Hana decided the woman would be insufferable for the rest of the month if she didn't get any answers. "Interesting. Reading. Yes. And obviously Japanese History." Hana rolled her eyes, what else would they talk about during a Japanese History tutoring session? (Although she supposed the latest lesson _had_ ventured into non-Japanese History related topics, such as bullying and small to medium sized accidents).

Hana's frown turned contemplative as she continued, ignoring her mother's eager nods at Hana actually _volunteering_ information, because Hana needed someone to vent to and her mother was as good a victim as any, "But I don't understand _why_ she wants to be tutored in Japanese History." Hana huffed in frustration, brows crinkling in confusion, "She obviously doesn't need any help in it. She's read the textbooks for all the previous years, as well as this year, and understands everything they're saying. She's also finished all of her homework flawlessly. She's already reading university level books- some of them even I haven't read yet! The few concepts she hasn't heard of before, she grasps after I explain it only once – sometimes I don't even finish an explanation before she understands!" Hana ranted, hands moving in large gestures as though only the words weren't enough to convey her frustration at the enigma that was Sawada Tsunako. "The only reason I haven't asked her directly is because I'm not sure she'll give me an honest answer. I just need more time to figure out why exactly she agreed to the tutoring sessions when she clearly doesn't need them." _And exactly who she is_ , Hana silently added. This Tsuna was so different from everything she expected, she was a puzzle, and Hana could never leave a puzzle unfinished.

Hana's mother hummed in acknowledgement, a twinkle in her eye telling Hana that she knew the reason she stated wasn't her _only_ reason for spending time with the girl. "Have you considered that Tsunako agreed to tutoring sessions she doesn't need in order to get to know _you_ better?"

"D-Don't be ridiculous!" Hana blustered, hating that she could feel the telltale heat on her cheeks. Why the hell was she embarrassed, damn it?!

"Oh?" Hana's mother smiled like the cat who had not only got the canary, but blamed it on the dog. "This girl must be pretty special if the thought of her wanting to be friends with you makes you react like this."

"I'm not reacting like anything!"

The one-sided argument lasted well into the night.

Hana lost.

* * *

Tsunako's magic wasn't working properly.

And by not working properly, Tsunako meant that she couldn't even cast a simple _wingardium leviosa._

She _was_ attempting to do it wandless, but that was no excuse for this utter failure. Back in her dimension she had managed to cast most of her spells wandless, albeit with a bit more effort. Only for the truly magically draining ones did she need a wand. She should have been able to cast all the spells she had tried in the last two hours if she had been back in her dimension.

In all fairness, it wasn't a big surprise that her magic wasn't working, as she _was_ in a parallel dimension that probably had different spatial rules and where magic might not even exist.

But, really, she was Mistress of Death. Couldn't Death twink things a bit so she had her magic here? She felt such a fearsome title like Mistress of Death deserved at least _some_ perks.

(She didn't count eternal life because Death had caused her to die early anyway. It evened things out. Plus, knowing her, she'd probably spend eternity trying to right the wrongs of the cosmic balance or something of the like. Sounds more like an eternal _job_ ).

She supposed she should be grateful that she still had _some_ form of magic in her. And there _was_ magic in her. Unmistakably so.

For the last four hours, Tsunako had sat in a meditative pose in the basement of an abandoned building she found close to her neighborhood. She had been trying to get a feel of her magical network, searching for her core.

It had taken almost two hours of searching, but in the end she had found her core.

It wasn't the core she was used to, but it _was_ a core.

And it was beautiful.

Her core was an orange, fiery globe that glowed with all the light of a supernova. Had Tsunako been looking with her eyes, and not her magical sense, she would surely have been blinded. As it was, she felt slightly disoriented.

It reminded Tsunako vaguely of a phoenix, which was oddly fitting. Firstly for the obvious reason that Tsunako had been reborn, dying in her past life only to take on a new form and live again in her current life. Secondly because Fawkes had become Hyacinth's familiar after Dumbledore's death, an occurrence much talked about by the Wizarding World not only because it was extremely rare for someone to gain a phoenix as a familiar, but also because Hyacinth had already had a familiar in Hedwig, and having two familiars at the same time was practically unheard of.

Not so surprisingly - because this was Tsunako and Hyacinth Potter and when had things actually run smoothly for her in _either_ of her lives? - there was a problem with Tsunako's core. The globe seemed to be chained somehow, the chains themselves possessing a mystical energy of their own that tightened around her fiery core and stopped her from accessing it.

On a more physical level, the chains seemed to cause something in her chest to tighten, as though there was a lead weight there that occupied space, squeezing her other organs against her ribcage and making it harder to move.

This difficulty moving and even breathing at times had been noticed by Tsunako, but she had simply attributed it to the fact that she had changed bodies, a strange and discomfiting experience for anyone, or the fact that this parallel universe's bodies were simply heavier and stiffer. Apparently not. The discomfort was reserved solely for her.

Really, she should've known.

On the bright side, the chains had several cracks in them. With enough time and effort, Tsunako was sure she could break them and finally be as she was meant to be again.

This positive attitude quickly evaporated in the next two hours.

After finding her core, Tsunako had spent the rest of her time trying out different spells, only for absolutely none of them to work. She was just about ready to rip her hair out in frustration and call it quits for the day when, inspired by the orange fire of her core, Tsunako decided to cast an _incendio_ next.

Using Occlumency practices to banish all the frustration and mental exhaustion accumulated from two hours of trying with nothing to show for it whatsoever, Tsunako closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Once sufficiently calm, Tsunako held out a hand in front of her. Suddenly opening her eyes, Tsunako donned an expression of intense concentration, her gaze unblinking and unwavering from her outstretched hand's middle index finger.

" _Incendio._ "

The world seemed to hold its breath, as though everything hung in suspension for just this moment, waiting and watching to see what happened next.

Nothing was happening, and Tsunako almost gave up, before-

 _There! It's there!_

Triumph flooded through Tsunako as she saw a small flicker of beautiful orange flame manifest on her finger.

It only lasted a moment, however, for seconds later her world tilted sideways and suddenly-

 _Darkness._

* * *

When Tsunako woke up, she was lying on the floor of the abandoned basement.

She opened bleary eyes, only to regret her decision as this seemed to trigger a massive headache. Her body felt like it had participated in a marathon, and was later attacked by a hoard of professional kick boxers.

After taking a moment to feel sorry for herself, Tsunako resolutely opened her eyes and sat back up. Feeling around her head delicately with the tips of her fingers, she was relieved to find there were no bumps and that she hadn't overly hurt herself when she fell to the floor unconscious.

Tsunako had no idea how much time had passed, but looking out the window, she saw the Sun had set while she was unconscious.

It was absolutely worth it, though. She finally found a spell that worked in this dimension after four hours of fruitless attempts. Yes, it _had_ left her exhausted and unconscious, but it was _progress._ It was _something she could work with._

Then again…

What exactly did it say about this world that _incendio_ , the charm to make things burn, was the only spell that worked?

Damn it, in just what kind of dimension had Death sent her?

Shrugging off her worry as it wouldn't solve anything, Tsunako resolved she wouldn't waste her time agonizing about it.

She decided to head back home for the day. She was exhausted and wouldn't be making any more progress today.

Besides, it wouldn't do to wake up exhausted and underprepared tomorrow morning. She'd need all of her energy and patience and then some. And maybe some alcohol.

Tsunako sighed.

Tomorrow would be hard.

After all, it was her first day of school.

* * *

 **A/N:** I don't really have a pairing in mind, and while Tsunako is still young this fic will definitely be gen, but I can be convinced to pair her with someone later on.

I know everyone is super eager to see Hibari, and I promise he will appear soon, just please be patient for a little while longer!


	4. School and other Wonderful Banalities

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

 **A/N** : Wow, I am absolutely floored by all the follows, favorites, and reviews I've received! In fact, I had briefly lost inspiration to write, but then I read all of your reviews and found my motivation again. So thank you so much to everyone who has supported me! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update.

To answer some of the questions I received:

Yes, there will be a time skip, but there are still some things I want to do while Tsunako is young.

No, I'm not thinking of romance at the moment. This fic will be Gen for a while yet, if not forever. We'll see how it flows.

Yes, Hibari and Tsunako will meet face-to-face soon.

And I have plans for Yoshimune. Telling would be spoiling~

I'm not very happy about this chapter, but there comes a time where you're just staring at the same words for too long and I just wanted to get rid of it.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

For not the first time in that morning – or in her life in general - Tsunako cursed how infuriatingly normal the Dursleys had been. More specifically, she cursed the fact that they had been so utterly, boorishly normal that they had only ever agreed to eat English food.

Perhaps it was a silly thing to curse them for – especially when compared to the other list of grievances she had against them, such as making her live in a cupboard under the stairs for the better part of her childhood among other things – but as she tasted her homemade teriyaki sauce ( _No, still nowhere_ near _as good as Nana's_ ) it was the thing she begrudged the most.

Chinese, Greek, Mediterranean - even French food they would refuse to touch, as the only ones who ate it were "those bloody frog-eating poufs" (though Tsunako had seen her uncle and cousin practically inhale French pastries, all the while praising traditional English cuisine)… So there was no way they had ever condescended to eat Japanese food.

(In fact, she remembered them talking about Japanese food, but she wouldn't repeat what they had said about it, if only out of pure disgust for all the racial slurs involved).

And by extension, there had been no way for Tsunako, the maid-gardener-cook-indentured-servant-extraordinaire of the Dursley Household, to cook Japanese food.

Well, perhaps that was a little unfair.

She supposed not _all_ of the blame for her lack of cooking variety could be laid at the feet of the Dursleys. She had, after all, spent several years living on her own before being brought to this dimension in which she could have tried different cooking styles. But even then, she hadn't cooked much – not so much because she didn't enjoy it, but rather because it would send her houselves, Kreacher, Dobby, and Winky, into massive blubbering fits where apologies for unworthiness were wailed between sobs, accusations of the Great Mistress Hyacinth Potter not needing useless houselves anymore were hurled, and attempts at self-harm were narrowly avoided.

Not worth the aggravation, if you asked Tsunako. Absolutely not worth the aggravation. As the old saying went, "The secret to a happy home is happy house-elves."

She bet her enemies would have paid a pretty penny to see the mighty Woman-Who-Conquered so deftly manipulated by a trio of creatures less than half her size.

(Master of Death? Please, she hadn't even been master of her own home).

As such, on the rare occasions Tsunako _had_ cooked, it had been at the Zabini Manor, away from the watchful eyes of her overly dramatic house-elves. The Burrow might have also been an option, but Molly Weasley was possessive of her kitchen and any attempt at offering aid in cooking had been met with all the fierceness of a mother dragon protecting her eggs – trust her, Tsunako would know.

She would generally cook Italian food, as that was all Blaise knew how to cook – but Merlin did he cook it well! – and they had enjoyed cooking and dining as a couple.

With the occasional surprise visit from Isadora, much to Blaise's frustration.

How was Tsunako ever supposed to catch up to Nana at this rate? She was learning Japanese cuisine from scratch! And every time her mother made her a meal she felt the full burden of her inadequacy crash upon her frustratingly small seven-year-old shoulders.

She would cook at least half as well as Nana one day even if it was the last thing she did!

Tsunako stared determinedly at her teriyaki sauce that had the gall to be anything less than succulent before huffing in amusement.

 _From worrying about genocide to assassins to running Wizarding Britain… to worrying about cooking Japanese food, of all things._

 _Oh, how times have changed._

Tsunako smiled.

 _And I couldn't be happier about it._

This banality, the quiet basking in small, petty concerns such as cooking.

She loved it all.

 _Speaking of mundane things… today is the first day of school._

What a strange thought.

The day had started like every other day since she had arrived in this parallel universe. Tsunako had woken up at 4:00 (she had never been able to sleep for very long after the war anyway), gone out for her training routine, gotten back, taken a shower, changed into clean clothes, gotten excited about spending time with her mother, taken a few moments to calm herself down over the prospect of spending time with her mother, and gone downstairs to make breakfast and obentos while waiting for said mother to come down.

Except this time she had changed into a school uniform instead of casual clothes. And the obentos, instead of the local park she usually spent her afternoon reading at, would come with her to school.

 _Elementary_ school _._

Tsunako wasn't sure what to think about all of it. She hadn't stepped foot in a school in ten years, give or take a few. She hadn't taken actual classes in even longer than that. In fact, she hadn't even officially finished her schooling, having become Minister of Magic directly after the war.

Now that she thought about it, she had probably been the first Minister of Magic without a school diploma.

(That was rather sad. She hoped the historians would forget to add that part to the books).

It had always been something she had regretted, not experiencing typical school life. Oh, sure, she had loved Hogwarts – as an escape from the Dursleys, if nothing else – and had made fantastic friends, the kind that stayed with you for life and would die for you – had died for her – as she would have for them. And she wouldn't trade those for the world… But she had to admit she had always longed for a normal, peaceful school experience.

Even in her early years, before being introduced to magic and the yearly attempts on her life, she hadn't been able to properly enjoy school. From the very start, Dudley and his gang had chased after her and scared away anyone who had gotten too close to her and might have made the horrendous mistake of becoming the freak's friend, and the Dursleys had berated her whenever she had achieved better grades than their perfect Dudley-Diddums, which was frankly very often during her earlier years. Eventually, she had learned to keep her scores at just about idiot level, and to find somewhere to hide every break and lunch.

But now… Now, she would finally have a chance to enjoy her school life.

Maybe… Maybe she could even focus on her studies without anyone trying to kill her.

Hell, she'd settle for people simply not expecting her to either become a Dark Lady or reveal herself as the second coming of Merlin.

It was already a huge improvement.

Grades weren't so important to her, but Tsunako felt compelled to do her best, if only to honor Hermione's memory and this second opportunity that was being given to her (an opportunity so many of her fallen comrades didn't- wouldn't ever have).

And to please her mother.

Especially to please her mother.

Nana was of an air-headed disposition, there was no doubt about that, but she genuinely loved her children – genuinely loved _Tsunako._ It was thrilling and frightening and overwhelming all at once. There were days Tsunako woke up thinking it had all been a dream and she was an orphan and alone again, but then she'd see her mother and the sheer beauty of her kind eyes and her loving smile chased all dark thoughts away, reducing them to mere wisps of forgotten insecurities.

Sometimes her mother would smile at her, so warm and loving, and Tsunako would just freeze – pouring soy sauce into her water, walking straight into a closed door, dropping the tea cup in her hand and sitting passively as it crashed into the ground – all garnering nothing more than a fond, "My clumsy little Tsu-chan" from Nana.

Tsunako wanted to repay her mother for her love in some way- and one of these ways was to become the best daughter possible in order to make her mother happy.

Part of doing that was studying and getting good grades.

She had already seen how happy her mother was when she said she was going to Hana's house to study Japanese History.

Tsunako was _not_ going to let her mother down.

She had been given a chance at a family who genuinely lovedher – something that had been cruelly ripped away from her at an age where she would have no memories of her parents apart from her mother's dying screams in her last life – and she was _not_ going to waste it.

"Ara? What has my Tsu-chan making that frowny face?"

Tsunako turned around to see her mother at the kitchen door, having just gotten out of her room and looking as beautiful as ever.

Tsunako had made it a habit to be in the kitchen and start cooking before her mother woke up. She figured it must be hard to be a single mother – which her mother had to be, since there was no sign of a life partner in those last two weeks, and you'd have to be a real idiot to not spend every possible minute with a wife that wonderful, or at the very least call – of two elementary school age twins. The least Tsunako could do was lighten the workload a bit.

(And, if she was honest with herself, she wanted to perfect her cooking as much as possible so that she could cook with Nana on equal footing one day. She had taken to making two bentos a day – neither of which were for her brother since he had vehemently told her he'd rather eat dirt when she offered – generally foisting off the second one on Hana).

"I'm just thinking about how to cook the broccoli, Mama!" Tsunako answered cheerfully. She couldn't help but beam at the woman whenever she talked, the sheer joy of being with her sometimes so intense it was physically painful. Turning back to the broccoli sitting on the counter before her mother could detect the intensity of her emotion in her eyes, she asked, "What do you think? Should I use soy and sesame or teriyaki sauce?"

"Oh! My Tsu-chan is cooking so well already!" Nana beamed. "Mama is so proud!"

Tsunako froze.

Now, ordinarily comments of this nature from a parent would only serve to embarrass their child. They would blush, get angry with their parent for treating them like a child, play it off as nothing in order to appear "cool".

This was not one such a case.

Instead of whining embarrassedly or flushing in shame, Tsunako only smiled even brighter at her mother and fought the telltale pinprick of tears in her eyes.

 _Mama is so proud!_

Tsunako didn't cry easily. She had suffered so much and so repeatedly that crying every time something bad happened in her life would've been utterly exhausting and a waste of precious time and effort. It would've probably led to an eternal case of dehydration, as well. While she may have cried often as a baby, it took only a few years with the Dursleys for Tsunako to quickly learn that tears would gain her nothing and only ever invited ridicule.

And so she didn't cry.

 _Mama is so proud!_

When others whimpered in fear when faced by Death, Tsunako stood strong and unmoved.

When others broke down after killing for the first time, Tsunako stoically and methodically ripped men apart.

When others sobbed over the deaths of their comrades, Tsunako buried friends – family - without shedding a single tear.

 _Mama is so proud!_

So Tsunako was understandably surprised when she felt wetness on her cheeks.

It started at the tips of her eyes and slowly coursed down her cheeks, pooling at her chin, momentarily suspended there as though time had stopped to admire its tragic beauty for that one instant, only to drop quickly to the floor, the soft drip from the splatter the only sound that could be heard in the room.

 _Mama is so proud!_

Tsunako touched her fingers to her cheek, startling at the wetness she found there. Slowly, as though afraid of what she might find, she brought her hand, tellingly wet, in front of her.

 _What on Earth…_

She stood staring at the wetness on her fingers for a few moments, uncomprehending.

Finally, a voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Tsu-chan?" The uncharacteristically almost hesitant voice of Nana echoed through the kitchen, loud in the silence of the morning. Tsunako felt a gentle, loving hand rest on her shoulder, which only served to make the tears flow more quickly although just as silently.

"Why are you crying?"

* * *

Nana looked at her only daughter in confusion as tears continued to slide down her rosy cheeks.

She was no stranger to her Tsu-chan's tears. Ever since Tsunako was a baby the girl would cry at the drop of a hat. Whether it was tears of pain from tripping over her own feet and scraping her knee, tears of fear from being barked at by the neighborhood Chihuahua, or tears of sadness from not having any friends (because Nana may be oblivious but even she knew her daughter felt lonely), Tsunako cried easily.

Those tears were loud; they were messy, wailing things, all too often accompanied by snot and incomprehensible babble. They were sobs that shook her tiny daughter's whole body and made her little shoulders tremble. Tsunako wasn't overly dramatic about it, as she had never been one to bring attention to herself (always so shy and adorable, her Tsu-chan), but they were a child's tears, big globs of water that burst out from their sockets with all the subtlety of a rampaging elephant. Nana was fairly certain that if she had kept every single tear Tsunako had shed since the day she was born, there'd be enough to fill a large pool.

Of course, no matter the frequency of the event Nana would always go to comfort her child, picking her up and placing her in her lap, cooing at her until the tears stopped.

But watching Tsunako stare at her hand, fingers wet with her silent tears, Nana couldn't help thinking these tears were different. They weren't loud or messy. In fact, she would've never known they were even there if she hadn't been looking directly at her daughter's face.

There was such a discord between the tears that silently but determinedly pooled down Tsunako's face and the absolute befuddlement in her expression that it… worried Nana.

It was as though Tsunako was not the one crying. As though her child was merely watching someone else cry, and was utterly confused as to why this person's tears were coming out of her eyes. Her small body stood utterly still, like a painting, a distant look in here caramel gaze, and suddenly Nana wondered why it was her daughter suddenly seemed so far away.

Tsunako looked so fragile in that moment.

Nana was overcome by the incomprehensible need to touch her daughter, to keep her from going, from leaving, from fading away…

"Tsu-chan?" Nana put a reassuring hand on her daughter's shoulder, light and gentle, as though holding her too tightly might shatter her. Nana couldn't understand her own hesitation when any other time she wouldn't think twice about bundling her Tsu-chan up into her lap to comfort her. "Why are you crying?"

Nana's voice seemed to at least do something, as Tsunako stopped staring at her hand, instead turning wide, caramel eyes – the same brown brown brown shade as Nana's, and yet somehow infinitely orange – to her mother, and gave a small, sad smile.

Nana didn't like that smile. She couldn't say why, but she knew it didn't belong on her daughter's face. She wanted it _gone._

In a soft voice, the voice of a child, wide-eyed and uncertain yet strangely resigned, Tsunako replied, "Must have been the onions, Mama."

Nana stopped.

 _Oh! Silly me!_

At once, all worries left Nana. She laughed.

The mother breathed a sigh of relief. So that's what it was! No wonder the way she cried seemed different – she wasn't actually crying at all! Well, Nana had worried over nothing.

Giving a small giggle at her own overthinking of things, (Which, really, Nana never did. She wondered what had gotten into her that morning. Must have been the change in weather), Nana clapped her hands, "Well then! Let's get to finishing breakfast, shall we?"

Cheerfully, she hummed as she danced through the kitchen, the previous incident already forgotten as she focused on what to cook for breakfast.

Loving mother Nana may be, but observant she was not.

Nana, in all her obliviousness, never noticed that there were no onions to be seen.

* * *

"Are you excited about going to school and seeing all your friends again, Yoshi-kun?"

"I saw them over summer already. People who have friends don't wait until summer is over to see them. But you wouldn't know about that, would you, Dame-Tsuna?" He sneered, "Since no one wants to be your friend!"

"How wonderful! Yoshi-kun is so popular!"

"You're so unpopular even a rat would be popular in comparison!"

"But you're not a rat! Everyone says you're both smart and athletic, Yoshi-kun! Not rat-like at all!"

"Shut up, Dame-Tsuna! Of course I'm not a rat!" The boy spluttered. "And I told you not to call me that!"

Things had been proceeding in much the same way for the last ten minutes.

After breakfast that morning Yoshimune had been ready to rush out of the house, but in an uncharacteristic show of force, Nana had insisted that her children walk to school together, at least for the first day.

And so, for the last ten minutes, Tsunako and her brother had walked together.

Or at least something resembling together, as Yoshimune walked at least five feet in front of her at all times. Sometimes, she would say something he found particularly annoying (although why that was she couldn't fathom, as she had done nothing but smile and try to be friendly) and he would unconsciously walk closer to her to retort or to insult her. After a few back-and-forths, he would realize their proximity and jump back from her as if burned – quite comical, actually – quickly walk forward to keep their distance of five feet, and proceed to either pretend she didn't exist or further insult her in some fashion.

Others might find this behavior irritating and offensive – even insulting.

But not Tsunako.

Tsunako thought it was _adorable._

Tsunako opened her mouth to ask her brother another question – she really wanted to know more about him as they had barely seen each other the last few weeks since he was always out – but her brother interrupted her before she could utter a sound.

"Shut up! I don't want to talk to you, Dame-Tsuna!"

Honestly, it was like prat-Draco and prat-Ron all over again. Except in one person. The horror.

Yoshimune was lucky he was her brother and she loved him so unconditionally. After years of dealing with a spoiled and whiny prat-Draco and an egotistical and equally whiny prat-Ron, she really usually had little patience for that type of behavior in others.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason she found this behavior simply cute in her younger twin.

She really couldn't find it in herself to be mad at him. She was overjoyed at simply having a sibling.

It surprised her, how happy she was at having a brother. She had always known she wanted a mother. Parents had been her most desperate want; in fact, the Mirror of Erised had shown that her greatest desire was for a father and a mother.

She hadn't ever really thought of siblings.

Hermione had been her sister and Draco had been her brother in all but blood. She had never felt the need for a sibling the way she had a mother.

And yet, she wouldn't trade him for the world.

He was _hers_ now.

In any case, she was sure Yoshimune would mature with time. Draco certainly had, and she had absolutely hated him in her initial Hogwarts years.

And then perhaps she and Yoshimune would have the same playful camaraderie the Weasleys had so effortlessly shared.

"Why do you look so happy, Dame-Tsuna?" Yoshimune asked accusingly, as though it was a crime against the very laws of nature for her to be anything other than despondent on the first day of school. Perhaps it was. Her previous self would certainly have been near depressed.

"Oh? I thought you weren't talking to me?" Tsunako asked. She thoroughly enjoyed teasing her brother.

"I'm not!" Yoshimune protested, color briefly flushing into his cheeks. "I don't even want to be seen with you! It's bad enough that Dame-Tsuna is my sister!" Then, with newfound resolution, he declared, "I don't care what Mom said, I'm not going to school with you!"

And with that, Yoshimune ran off, leaving Tsunako alone on the empty street.

Tsunako paid it no mind, however. As much as she enjoyed spending time with her brother, prat-Draco and prat-Ron that he was, there was something she had to do that she'd much rather do alone.

It was time to face an old enemy.

* * *

Tsunako stared.

And stared.

And stared.

 _I still don't get it._

After revisiting a couple of her memories from before the merging, Tsunako had been not entirely surprised to find out that she had a contentious relationship with the local dog in the neighborhood.

By contentious relationship, she meant that it yipped at her and she'd run away in tears.

She had a way with all other animals – from wolves to hippogriffs to eventually even dragons, but dogs in particular just found something in her that made their hackles rise (with the notable exception of Sirius _who is not_ actually _a dog, Aunt Cissa, no matter what his manners at the dinner table are_ ).

Or maybe Tsunako was just prejudiced after being subjected to Aunt Marge's bulldog, the ever-so-accurately-named Ripper, for so long.

So her parallel self not getting along with a dog was not unexpected.

What she didn't understand was how she had been _afraid_ of it.

Staring at the small canine in front of her once more, Tsunako couldn't help being puzzled.

It- it was a _Chihuahua._

And less than half her size, even at seven years old!

She had been afraid of a _Chihuahua._

 _Damn it, I'm never going to live this down if Draco ever finds out._

Desperate to find any bloodthirsty or frightening quality in the Chihuahua that would redeem her parallel self's past fear of it in some way, Tsunako got even closer to the dog to get a better look.

Canine eyes stared into her soul, and indeed Tsunako found what she could faintly detect as meanness in them – and was that a sense of superiority? Was this Chihuahua looking _down_ on her?

Tsunako had officially achieved a new low in life.

With beady eyes full of what Tsunako could only interpret as malicious anticipation, the Chihuahua barked – no, yipped – into her face, no doubt expecting her to run away in tears like every other time it had done so.

Tsunako was very much unimpressed.

Detecting confusion from the tiny canine – whose bark was obviously worse than its bite, which was really quite sad considering its bark consisted of a high-pitched yip – Tsunako explained herself, "It's not you, it's me." She sighed, "Right now my pride really can't take another beating, so I can't afford to run away in tears anymore. I hope you understand."

And with that said, Tsunako walked away from the very confused Chihuahua, hoping that the rest of her day would turn out to be at least marginally better than that very embarrassing interaction with the previously terrifying tiny canine.

* * *

Students were mingling in the school's main courtyard, the already harried teachers trying – and mostly failing, as these were a bunch of rambunctious elementary schoolers who were excited about seeing all their friends again – to organize the uncontrollable children into rows for the Opening Ceremony and the collective singing of the school anthem.

Of course, why they were being gathered into the school courtyard was the farthest thing from the children's minds.

All around her, kids were rushing to their friends, with some variation of, "How was your summer?", "The homework was so hard!", and "Do you think we'll be in the same class?" exchanged.

At a distance, Tsunako spotted a brown-haired child putting chewed gum in a poor girl's hair, two boys noisily grappling with each other, a big kid swinging a wooden sword around and making loud exclamations about what seemed to be his "super awesome skills"…

And was that boy with the big smile and the baseball bat… surrounded by a hoard of girls?

 _Oh dear, this new generation_ does _start early._

Chuckling at the sight and yet shuddering slightly at the memories of her own hoard of fangirls and fanboys she had had in her previous life, Tsunako continued to scan the room. She could see her brother far off to her right, surrounded by a hoard of his own, although this one consisting only of boys and was much smaller than the smiling boy's hoard.

 _Those must be the friends he was always out with over summer – his soccer teammates, was it?_

For a brief moment, Yoshimune's gaze met her own. The moment didn't last long, however, as he sneered at her and looked away in obvious dismissal.

Tsunako sighed. It seemed she still had a long way to go to establish an at least non-antagonistic relationship with her twin.

 _Ah, well. Good things come to those who wait._

As it was, Tsunako seemed to be one of the only people who wasn't talking to at least one other person. If anything, this confirmed Tsunako's fears that her parallel self had had no friends. A sad thought to be sure, but one that made her life easier as there were less people to note the changes in her personality and become suspicious.

Seeing the chaos that was occurring around her, Tsunako chuckled. She really needn't have rushed so much to get to school. At the rate this was going the ceremony would start at least fifteen minutes late.

Due to her confrontation with the Chihuahua, Tsunako had had to run to get to school on time, not quite understanding why but knowing from her memories that being late was a _bad idea_.

She had succeeded in arriving at the school with two minutes to spare, and had silently berated herself for not training hard enough upon arrival. She should have managed with a comfortable five minutes, at the very least!

This weakness – because that is what it was – could not be allowed to continue.

(Because weakness meant not being able to protect and not being able to protect meant corpses on the ground bearing too familiar faces, meant lying bound and helpless as slowly, one by one, her friends are brought into a room and all she can hear are _hellish wails of agony and mad cackling while she can only sit and beg and nostoppleasenotthem-_ )

"Tsuna!"

Tsunako turned sharply to the source of the sound, eyes alert, poised to strike -

And then she felt ridiculous… because there was Hana, innocent, _seven-year-old_ ,Hana, and Tsuna was allowing her memories to control her again.

"Hana," Tsuna's whole demeanor shifted from threatening to calm and laidback as she greeted the girl with a smile, "How are you?"

Hana blinked a bit, having frozen on spot when Tsunako turned around, but then shook her head, as though physically ridding herself of some confusion. She walked the rest of the distance towards Tsuna, grimacing, "I'm surrounded by the very slobbering monkeys I spent all summer avoiding, how do you think I am?"

Tsuna laughed – because what else could she expect from the child-hating girl? – before responding, "Surely it can't be that bad. You haven't even been here five minutes."

"And it's already been five minutes too long." Hana huffed. At Tsuna's careless laugh, which obviously proved to Hana that the brunette didn't grasp the full horror of the situation, Hana pressed, "No. You don't understand. It's been five minutes and one of the monkeys in class has already tried to touch me with his disgusting finger. Do you know where that disgusting finger was before that? _Do you?_ It was in his nose, Tsuna!" Hana took an almost threatening step towards Tsunako, "Inside. His. Nostril!" Hana hissed viciously. Her face was one of pure revulsion. "Animals, the lot of them."

"Monkeys?" Tsuna bemusedly contributed.

Not picking up on the sarcasm in Tsuna's words or choosing to ignore it, Hana continued, "Exactly."

"You don't like kids in general, but it's especially the boys you dislike, right?" Tsunako asked. With a nod from Hana, she continued, "Then why don't you just go to an all girls elementary school? Or get homeschooled for elementary? You're obviously smart enough to even skip a few grades if you want to."

Hana puffed up in pride at the last comment and coolly flipped her glossy black hair over her shoulder, "Of course I am. It would be insulting if you thought I was on the same intellectual level as these monkeys." Taking a critical look at the children around her, she sniffed. "But there are problems with your suggestion. First, there are no all-girls elementary schools near Namimori. Second, my mom would never allow me to be homeschooled. She's under the impression that my social circle is lacking – as if I would find anyone to be friends with _here_." Hana wrinkled her nose, disgusted with the mere prospect of befriending any of the buffoons around her. Tsunako was an exception; she doubted she'd find more children her. "Besides, I have a friend here I can't leave. She wouldn't survive even a week without me-"

Hana abruptly cut herself off, eyes widening. With a hissed "Damn it", she grabbed Tsunako's hand and dragged the small brunette to the nearest row of students.

Tsunako allowed herself to be dragged, knowing Hana wasn't prone to dramatics or bursts of fancy. If she was dragging Tsunako without an explanation, there was a good reason for it.

Because of that, Tsunako heightened her senses in order to prepare herself for whatever had affected Hana like that. Immediately, she noticed there was a rapidly spreading feeling of tension in the air. The noise in the courtyard had all but disappeared, the only sound the pitter-patter of children's footsteps as students scrambled to file neatly into rows.

Tsunako watched in utter confusion as the previously uncontrollable kids all simultaneously took on the appearance of neat, quiet, well-behaved little angels.

Except they were… trembling?

There was fear in the air, but Tsunako didn't worry. This wasn't _true_ fear. It wasn't the terror of Death, of torture, of loss.

Rather, it was similar to the fear of getting caught with one's hand in the cookie jar, or the fear of getting a nonlethal injury. It was the fear of sweating nervous bullets – no reason for Tsunako to get involved.

But she was curious - what could have possibly inspired such an abrupt change in the children?

The answer was not hard to find. All she had to do was follow the direction of the flittering gazes of the students.

All of them were looking at a single boy.

The boy stood in the center of the courtyard, in view of all those there. He had an almost-but-not-quite arrogant look on his face that suggested he either did not like crowds or thought that the particular people around him were so far below him they were hardly even the same species. Tsunako was betting on both.

He was rather beautiful, for a boy who was at most nine years old, in a feral sort of way, and yet Tsunako was sure that that was not the reason all eyes were glued on him. Instead of his silky black hair and aristocratic features, Tsunako was pretty sure it had more to do with the two metal tonfas he held in his hands and the glimmer of battle lust in his steely grey eyes. An aura of absolute dominance encompassed the boy, and Tsunako had to admit she was impressed.

The war commander in her couldn't help but approve of the boy's aura and stance. Both could use improvements, of course, but to display such prowess at such a young age showed remarkable potential. He'd be a good asset in war. The warrior in her couldn't help but want to watch him on the battlefield.

He had the potential to be magnificent. That battle-lust, if it could be properly honed-

And then Tsunako felt dirty – just how far had the war and the politics of being Minister corrupted her that her first instinct upon seeing a _child_ was wonder how good a soldier he'd be?

The body was new and innocent, but the soul was oh so corrupted.

Tsunako disgusted herself.

And more than that, she scared herself.

(Just how much of herself had she sacrificed in the war? How much had she lost with each death?)

Even ten years later, the war haunted her.

Scowling, Tsunako forced her gaze away from the boy. She methodically surveyed the people she'd be spending her following years with. She couldn't help but be amused by all their childishly panicked faces, as though this small boy was the most frightening thing they had ever seen. Then again, perhaps he was. There had been no wars, no genocide, no great atrocities in recent years in this dimension. A steely-eyed boy with what looked like a penchant for battle could be their greatest nightmare.

She noted some of the students were shifting their eyes, as though scared that the boy would spot them staring and punish them in some way, yet unable to look away for long.

Automatically, her eyes searched for her brother. She found Yoshimune some rows down to her right, standing rigidly, eyes wide like a fish's, mouth locked in a tight line, beads of nervous sweat making their way down his forehead.

Poor thing was as scared as everyone else.

Tsunako sighed. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. Her brother surely didn't want her to comfort him in front of this crowd. In fact, she rather doubted he'd want her to comfort him in privacy either. Either way, it wasn't like this grey-eyed boy posed a true threat to her family. Her brother would simply have to cope with his fear for a little while. She thought everyone was being rather dramatic anyway. The way they acted you'd think the boy was the devil himself.

Moving along the rows of children, Tsunako spotted something interesting.

 _Oh? The smiling boy with the fangirls isn't afraid. How curious._

And, indeed, he wasn't.

The boy was smiling widely in a carefree manner; absolutely zero tension in his body. Instead, he seemed seconds away from laughing. Tsunako was about to dismiss him as a happy-go-lucky boy with no sense of danger when she spotted an alertness in him that she had only ever seen in experienced veterans.

 _Curious indeed._

With a bit of pride, Tsunako also noted that Hana did not sport the same wide-eyed expression as the others. If anything, she looked more irritated by the general pathetic-ness of those around her than fearful.

A bit to her front, a cute brown-haired girl with a distinctly Nana-ish feeling to her was also unafraid. Instead, in an eerie resemblance to Nana, she seemed oblivious to the tense atmosphere and, honestly, everything around her in general – and were those flowers in the background?

(Tsunako was impressed. She had only ever known Nana who possessed that technique. She had thought it was unique to her mother, but if this young girl could do it, then perhaps Tsunako could learn?)

There were other girls that weren't afraid of the boy. The blushes on their faces made Tsunako retract her earlier statement about the boy. Looks like some students _were_ staring at him because of his silky black hair and aristocratic features.

 _This generation really does start young._

Belatedly, Tsunako realized that the Namimori Elementary principal was following the tonfa-wielding boy to the stage that had been set up in the courtyard for the Opening Ceremony.

The principal gave his speech, the boy with the strong battle lust standing threateningly behind him. Made one wonder whom exactly the power behind the school was.

If someone were to ask Tsunako about the speech later, she wouldn't have been able to repeat even a word of it.

As they sang the school anthem, Tsunako only had one thought in her head.

Elementary School had finally started.

 _Oh, Merlin._

* * *

Tsunako was in her brother's class.

No, he wasn't happy about it.

Tsunako had been one of the first to enter her assigned classroom, the rest of the students spending as much time as possible chatting with their friends before having to attend class. Happily, the small brunette looked at the blackboard to find that she was seated near a window, with a great view of the front of the school gates. A boy named With nothing to do and some time to spare The look he gave her when he saw her quietly sitting near a window of their classroom was one full of such horror Tsunako had to stifle a laugh. She didn't think she'd done a very good job, because he shot her an angry glare before sitting in his assigned seat as well.

Hana wasn't in her class, which was unfortunate, but they still had their weekly Japanese History study sessions (Hana had forbidden her from calling them tutoring sessions for some reason. She was oddly insistent about it), so Tsunako knew they'd still see each other often.

And oh! Look at that! The smiling boy with the baseball bat was also in her class, and he had brought at least half of his fangirl hoard with him.

 _They really are so very young…_

Once all the students were seated and the teacher had scolded a pair of students who thought they could sit outside the seating arrangement without him noticing, class started.

They started with Math first, followed by Japanese History, English, and… Homemaking. For girls exclusively. While Arts and Handicrafts were for boys exclusively.

Tsunako valiantly resisted the urge to march up to the principal and go on a feminist diatribe. She idly wished Hermione was there with her. The feisty girl wouldn't have even tried to hold back.

After lunch they would have Japanese, Science, and finally Physical Education.

A mere three classes in, Tsunako was horrified.

Class was-

Utterly-

Dreadfully-

Appallingly-

Mind-numbingly-

Boring.

It wasn't like she hadn't expected it. This was Elementary school, after all. Even Ron would have thought it was easy. Plus, Tsunako had always been good at math, and English was hardly a challenge for obvious reasons.

But, the only person she had really talked to who was her physical age was Hana (Yoshimune didn't count as she could hardly carry out a conversation longer than five minutes with the boy). After two weeks of only Hana, and studying advanced Japanese History books along with the intelligent girl, Tsunako had forgotten what was normally expected of an elementary school student to know.

Hence, she had forgotten how horrifying easy and _boring_ classes would be.

There _was_ something interesting Tsunako had discovered, however.

And that was that Tsunako was, apparently, a Very Bad Student.

Tsunako had known this, of course. It was hard not to when she saw her atrocious test grades lying messily on her desk. Or when Hana looked like her eyes would pop out of her head when she found Tsunako reading a book. But she hadn't realized exactly how bad of a student she was.

Nor had she realized that the entire school knew how bad of a student she was.

Or how very not shy they were about expressing their knowledge of her being a bad student.

In fact, right now was an excellent example.

"Sawada," the teacher started, only to find both Tsunako and her brother looking attentively. "Ah, Sawada Tsunako," he clarified, "come to the board and write 'Hello. My name is Sawada Tsunako. I am seven years old' in English."

Immediately, the class broke out into snickers.

"Sensei! We'll be here forever if she tries to write in English! It's almost time for lunch!"

"Dame-Tsuna can't even _talk_ in _Japanese_ , she won't be able to write in _English!"_

"Try not to fail too hard, Dame-Tsuna."

"Poor Yoshimune! I don't know what I'd do if I had a sister that was so stupid."

A glance at the brother in question showed that he, too, was busy snickering with the classmate to his right as well. He looked giddy at what he perceived to be her inevitable humiliation. Well, she hadn't expected any support from there.

Nor did she need any support.

It was not the first time Tsunako had been mocked. As Hyacinth, she had been called naïve, incompetent, delusional, and other variations of such by the Ministry and most especially the pink toad Umbridge during her fifth year. Frankly, she much preferred those rather meaningless insults to the rumors that she was secretly Voldemort's successor and Evil Incarnate.

So being mocked was nothing new.

What Tsunako _was_ surprised by, though, was that the teacher didn't do anything to stop them.

Tsunako took a moment to feel sorry for her past self. No wonder she had dreaded school so much. It seemed she was met with isolation and humiliation by her classmates and was provided no support at all from her brother or teacher.

Rifling through her memories, Tsunako realized that after being subjected to her classmates' insults, her past self would barely manage to hold in her tears until lunch, where she would run off somewhere to loudly sob. She would hug herself, alone, as she had always been, and wait for classes to start again so she could be subjected to more pain and humiliation.

Angry on behalf of her past self, Tsunako slowly and wordlessly stood up from her desk and silently made her way to the board, head held high.

Her classmates continued to jeer at her, one even trying to trip her on her way to the board. Tsunako avoided the leg and resisted the childish temptation to step on the boy's foot.

Still silent, she took the chalk from her teacher's hand. With neat penmanship drilled into her by Aunt Cissa, Tsunako calmly wrote the required words on the board. At first, her classmates continued to loudly snicker and make fun of her, but with every word that was written and no noise of correction from their teacher, the students became quieter.

Once she was done, Tsunako turned to her teacher. He wasn't looking at her, however, instead gaping at the board and what she had written.

Seeing as she wasn't garnering a response, Tsunako frowned. If this was the reaction her past self had gotten every time she did something positive, there was no wonder why she had such deep self-esteem issues.

" _Thank you for your time. I've been trying to improve my English this summer."_ Tsunako paused, but now her teacher was gaping at _her_ instead of the board. " _I hope it's correct,"_ She said.

In English, of course.

Finally, the teacher got over his shock enough to answer, "N-no, that's quite correct, Sawada. Well done."

Murmurs broke out in the classroom. Dame-Tsuna had gotten a question right? And now she was speaking in English? Impossible. Not the stupid, useless Dame-Tsuna they knew.

With the same dignified pace, Tsunako returned to here desk.

As soon as she sat down, Tsunako regretted her actions. The shocked look on her classmates' faces had been vindicating, but what she had done was foolish and much too Gryffindorish. She could hear Draco nag her now. Tsunako shouldn't have spoken to the teacher in English, especially since she had a flawless British accent. Now she had only brought more attention to herself- exactly what she _didn't_ want.

But she hadn't been able to help herself. Tsunako had always had a bit of a temper, something she was famous for in fifth year, and while most of it had been cooled and hardened, she was still prone to impulsive decisions now and then. It was thinking of a little seven-year-old girl, shy and all too sensitive to the words of others, facing the daily goads and insults and crushing _loneliness_ that made her act the way she had. She had wanted to show these people that they were wrong about that little girl. She had felt she owed it to the little girl to prove to everyone exactly what she had the potential to be.

The whispers among her classmates continued all throughout class, and there was nothing the teacher could do to stop them.

By the end of class, everyone agreed that it had to have been a fluke.

There was no way _Dame-Tsuna_ knew English, after all.

There was no way Dame-Tsuna was _good_ at something _._

A pity. It would have been easier for them if they had just accepted the change, as the next few years would prove them wrong again and again.

* * *

It was lunch and Tsunako was just walking back to her classroom after having finished her bento when she heard a voice from behind her.

"Oi, Dame-Tsuna."

 _Dame-Tsuna?_ Wasn't that what her classmates had called her?

Figuring there couldn't be that many Dame-Tsuna's out there, Tsunako turned around to find that she was correct, and a big – for an elementary student – kid was standing in front of her.

 _Dame-Tsuna, huh? Doesn't that mean No-Good Tsuna? What is it about me that makes people unable to resist the temptation of assigning me a hyphenated title? Girl-Who-Lived, Heiress-of-Slytherin, Britain's-Hope, Woman-Who-Conquered… Dame-Tsuna._

Really, there had to be something about her that simply demanded people give her a hyphenated name if she had been given one for being _below average._

Somehow, she was sure this was all Fate's fault.

 _Dame-Tsuna, huh…_

Tsunako giggled at the incongruence of it all. She had never been assigned a title due to incompetence. Due to a prophecy, yes. Due to being a hero, yes. Due to being the root of all Evil, yes.

To have people give her a title simply because she wasn't good at things… Well, it was rather refreshing. She'd much rather be No-Good than some inhuman paragon of Light or Dark.

"Yes?" Tsuanko replied politely to the boy – she couldn't quite remember his name from her memories, and she had a habit of zoning out whenever she rifled through her previous self's memories, so she couldn't do it now. She'd just have to remember to look it up later.

The boy seemed off put by her relaxed response for a second, before quickly recovering. "Give me your lunch!" He demanded, extending his hand as though expecting her to place an obento on it.

Tsunako thought about her possible courses of action. This was a clear bullying attempt – and wasn't that a funny thought. When was the last time Tsunako had suffered through something as petty as _bullying_ – and she was really quite against it on a moral level. She could ignore the bully or confront him, although the latter didn't sit well with her as even if she was seven in body she was twenty-seven in mind, and beating an elementary school kid was rather undignified at her age.

But it might be a bit suspicious if she started fighting against all her bullies when not long ago she had been cowering from them. She had already decided she wouldn't sacrifice her grades to keeping attention away from herself, if she suddenly revealed herself to be a trained fighter on top of a good student, people might start to question things.

Plus, she had already eaten her bento. The only bento she had left was the one she usually pushed onto Hana. She had planned on going to find the black-haired girl and force her to eat her cooking again, but maybe Hana was tired of being her culinary guinea pig.

This boy would not be without his uses.

And so, she fished out the second bento box from her bag and handed it to the boy. "Here you go."

She waited patiently for a few moments but the boy still hadn't moved from where was standing smirking at her victoriously. "Well? Aren't you going to eat it?" She asked.

The boy bristled, "Of course I'm going to eat it!"

"Well then, eat it." Tsunako huffed, a tad impatiently. She didn't want to be late for her Japanese, after all. It wouldn't work well with her new resolve to be a good student.

"Then I'm eating it right now! In front of you! You can watch while I eat your lunch!"

"Thank you."

Still standing, the boy unwrapped her bento and proceeded to grab an octopus roll with his chopsticks. He took a large bite, exaggeratedly chewing it for her benefit, no doubt. Tsunako thought he looked a bit like a camel. In a show of manners that would have horrified Aunt Cissa, the boy wolfed down half of the bento in a span of a few seconds, getting rice all over his face.

Deeming the boy had eaten enough to form an opinion, Tsunako prompted, "Well?"

"Well, what?" The boy briefly stopped eating to ask, talking with his mouth open. Oh dear, this was probably what Aunt Cissa's nightmares were made of.

"Well, what do you think about it?" Tsunako clarified.

At the boy's blank stare, Tsunako frowned. "Is it good? Do you like it? Does it need more salt?" Tsunako huffed. She hadn't been this slow when she was seven, had she? Surely not.

"Wh-What?" The boy seemed even more confused.

Tsunako huffed _again_. At this rate she really was going to be late. "The food. What do you think about the food? Does it need anything? Are there any improvements I can make?" Tsunako's cooking had been good before, and had gotten better these past two weeks she spent cooking with Nana, but she was still getting used to Japanese cuisine. There was still a certain something that was missing from her dishes that was there in her mother's.

"Y-You cooked this?" The boy asked, incredulous. He looked between the half-empty obento box in his hand and her repeatedly, as though not understanding what she was saying.

"Yes."

"Then it's disgusting! I've never tasted anything nastier!" He shouted, but Tsunako noticed he didn't throw out the bento box in his hand.

"All right," Tsunako nodded in acceptance. Critics were the professional's best friends, after all, "But what exactly do you dislike? Is it the salt level? Is it the broccoli?" Tsunako paused, "Oh, I knew I should've cooked the broccoli with soy instead of teriyaki… My teriyaki isn't nearly good enough yet…"

"EWW! THIS IS BROCCOLI?!"

Tsunako deadpanned. What did he think the green tree-looking food was? "Don't be ridiculous, of course it is. Now eat up. If you don't eat your vegetables then you'll never grow."

The boy pointed an accusing finger at her, "But you're tiny! I'm bigger than you."

Tsunako felt an eyebrow twitch in irritation. Her height had always been a bit of a sore point for her. "Clearly I don't eat enough vegetables. Now be a good boy and eat the broccoli." Tsunako checked her watch, "In the next five minutes, preferably. After that classes start."

"But-"

She then shot the boy a look that had stopped even her godson in his most mischievous of moods in his tracks. She had plenty of practice with it – Teddy had a knack for getting into trouble that she blamed entirely on the Marauder genes in him. More than once she had had to use _the look_ to get him to quiet down and behave.

This boy was no more resistant to it than Teddy had been.

Obediently, he resumed eating his broccoli. Once all the food in the bento was gone, Tsunako took back the box from the boy's hands and put it in her bag.

"There, now was that so hard? Broccoli isn't that bad, is it?" She chided softly.

The boy looked away, "Vegetables are still gross."

Tsunako sighed. Ah, well. Every good commander knew that winning a battle did not mean winning a war. And managing to get children to like vegetables was a very long war indeed.

Hearing the chiming of the bell, Tsunako swiftly said good-bye to the boy and rushed to her class, not sparing him a second thought.

It only occurred to Tsunako later that her first attempt at being bullied since she got here had been pitifully poor.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to _Fireheart K_ for correcting my Tsunayoshi mistake!


	5. OMAKE

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry for my absence for so long, I don't know if you follow my other stories, but if you do you'll know that my grandmother was hospitalized a few months ago, and my whole family was so worried I kind of lost all inspiration.

But I was rereading your reviews and all of your support has inspired me to start writing again! So thank you for that.

This story was especially hard to continue because I actually lost all of the work I had on the newest chapter. And since these chapters are so _loooong_ that means I lost _a lot_ of work. Which is incredibly frustrating and depressing and doesn't make me want to rewrite things I've already written.

However, I do love this story. I could never abandon it, or you guys! So, here's an omake:

* * *

 **OMAKE 1**

Kurokawa Hana is determined.

Kurokawa Hana is unstoppable.

Kurokawa Hana is a girl on a mission. And nothing can distract her.

When she knocks on the door of the intended house, it is firm and confident, like Hana is with all other things.

She is all ready to go right into attack mode except-

Except who else would open it other than her always-sunny first ever friend, Kyoko.

(First, but not only. Hana is now the proud owner of _two_ friends, thank you very much. She'd wait for the rest to become working adults, and then maybe they'd be tolerable enough for her to become amicable acquaintances with them.)

"Oh, Hana-chan!" Kyoko exclaims in delight, "I didn't know you were coming today!"

This is an expected reaction. Kyoko is a forgetful of the small details, and she is often surprised when Hana comes over, even when the two had discussed the time and place earlier that very day. Often, Hana calls the Sasagawa family in order to make sure Kyoko doesn't wander out when Hana is scheduled for a visit.

But today is not such a case.

Hana smiles. There is no need to distress her friend with the details of her mission, after all. "I didn't come here to play, unfortunately, Kyoko." Hana's smile would have turned apologetic had she been any other person, "Actually, I came for your brother."

"Ryohei?" Kyoko asks.

 _Do you have any other brother?_ Hana is tempted to snark, but Kyoko is entirely too sweet a girl to be the brunt of Hana's sarcasm. It'd be like kicking a puppy that's wagging its tail with pure excitement at seeing you come home.

"Yes. Ryohei," Hana confirms, sounding not at all impatient _or_ ill-tempered. Her mother may say what she liked, but Hana feels she is making distinct progress.

"He's out training right now, but he should be back in twenty minutes," Kyoko explains, gesturing for Hana to follow her inside the house. Then, with a flowery smile, she asks, "Do you want to play dolls while we wait?"

Hana doesn't want to play dolls – she _never_ wants to play dolls - but Kyoko is her best friend and Hana has succumbed to much more degrading acts than playing dolls for the sake of her friend before.

"…Sure." She answers, and Hana counts herself lucky for having such an oblivious friend, since it means Kyoko doesn't notice the cringing tone of her voice.

.

.

.

When Ryohei returns home, Hana is waiting for him in his room.

She had spent fifteen minutes playing dolls with Kyoko (Kyoko's was named Cute Kitty-chan and the doll had eloped with her sister's fiancée, and Hana's was apparently named Eloise Augustine deRoux and was best friends with Kitty-chan, as well as being a foreigner that was having an affair with an Arabian prince but had to deal with his massive harem. Kyoko had explained to her that if they had a third person, then she could bring out her doll Antoinette Marie LaMouche, who, like Eloise Augustine deRoux, was also a foreigner and was also having an affair, except it's with her homeroom teacher who is eight years older than her. Personally, Hana feels like Kyoko is watching too many late night Western soap operas. She is also mildly depressed that the most normal sounding name is _Cute Kitty-chan_ ). After fifteen minutes of playing dolls, however, Hana had begged off, saying she wanted to wait for Kyoko's brother in his room.

So here she is, sitting on his desk chair, and that is exactly how Ryohei finds her when he enters his room.

Ryohei is not at all surprised to find her there, instead greeting her with a wide smile. Hana knows this is not because he expects her to be in his room, nor is it because his family has told him, but because he is entirely too dense to react in any way that common sense would dictate.

Hana has taken this into account.

Before Ryohei can exclaim her name in that insufferably loud voice of his, Hana interrupts his forecoming effusions.

"The morning of April 9th, what were you doing?" No sooner has Ryohei stepped in the room, Hana starts her interrogation.

Hana doesn't believe in wasting time on chitchat.

"Huh?"

"The morning of April 9th, four days ago," Hana clarifies, "What were you doing?"

Hana's glare could have frozen _lava._

Of course, whereas others would cower in fear, Ryohei is entirely oblivious.

"Four days ago, huh? Four days ago, four days ago, four days ago…" Ryohei mutters confusedly. "AH!" He exclaims, "I WAS EXTREMELY TRAINING!"

Hana would have banged her head against the wall if she hadn't foreseen this exact scenario occurring.

Being Kyoko's best friend, this is not the first time she has had to deal with Sasagawa Ryohei's particular brand of idiocy. And Hana has come prepared.

"I know," Hana replies nonplussed. "You train every morning." _And most afternoons, you boxing maniac._

"YEAH! I EXTREMELY DO!" Ryohei shouts, and Hana can feel the first stirrings of a headache making their presence known.

"During that training four days ago, did anything… unusual… occur?" Hana elaborates calmly.

She doesn't know what her mother is talking about. Hana has the patience of a saint.

"YEAH IT EXTREMELY DID! I MET AN EXTREME PERSON!" Ryohei pumps his fists in excitement.

 _Finally, we're getting somewhere._

"And what was this person's name?"

Here, she is less certain of her success. Ryohei is as bad with names as he is at not getting kicked out of libraries.

 _Well, it doesn't matter. I'll just ask for a description next and that should give me enough information to-_

"TSUNA!" Ryohei shouts. Hana hadn't thought it possible, but Ryohei's smile gets even _brighter._

 _Just as expected then- Wait, what?_

"Repeat that," Hana orders.

Ryohei doesn't miss a beat, "TSUNA!"

 _Sasagawa Ryohei remembers someone's name? The name of someone he has only met_ once _before?_ Hana is incredulous. _It took him four months to remember my name, and I came to his house to play with Kyoko every week!_

 _Wait… since when is he allowed to call Tsunako so familiarly?!_

Hana takes a composing breath. _No, I can't let him distract me._

Facing Ryohei with a renewed glare, Hana continues her interrogation, "And how did you meet this Tsuna?"

"I EXTREMELY RAN INTO HER!" Ryohei proudly exclaims.

 _Does he know no shame?_ _Can he even truly be considered Japanese when he doesn't have a polite bone in his body?_

"And then what happened?" Hana doesn't relent.

"AND THEN WE EXTREMELY FELL!"

"And then?"

"AND THEN I EXTREMELY HELPED HER UP AND TOLD HER SHE HAS TO JOIN THE BOXING CLUB TO THE EXTREME!"

…Of course he did.

"Let's go back to the moment you ran into her. Would you say you ran into her with great force?" God, why is talking to Kyoko's older brother so exhausting? Hana can feel her headache getting worse with every word that comes out of his mouth.

"YES!"

"Enough force to make her fall down?"

"Y-YES!" _Oh, is that hesitation?_

"Enough force for her to be injured?"

"Y-yes…"

Hana is shocked. Is that _shame_ in Kyoko's what-is-common-sense-and-shame-all-my-monkey-brain-can-think-of-is-boxing brother?

Ryohei looks downright _remorseful._

Hana's shock doesn't last long, however, as she registers exactly what Ryohei has admitted to.

 _Ryohei hurt Tsunako._

It was an accident, she knows, but that doesn't come near to excusing it. Hana's grip on the desk chair tightens. Hurting Hana's friends is-

 _Unacceptable._

"She sprained her wrist, you know?" Hana informs him, stern glare never leaving his regretful one. Ryohei looks even more downtrodden at her words, and Hana pounces on the exposed vulnerability, "And her entire arm was covered in bruises and scratches."

Ryohei's shoulders slump. Hana doesn't think she's ever seen them do that before.

 _Good. He better feel guilty._

Hana is petty and vindictive, and she's proud of it.

"I heard you're trying to create a boxing club at Namimori Elementary," The abrupt change in topic would have sounded ominous to any normal person, but Ryohei is not normal and as such doesn't notice anything wrong.

"TO THE EXTREME!" He shouts, but Hana notices that perhaps there is a degree less of exuberance compared to before he was informed of the depth of Tsunako's injuries.

"I know there's been concerns on the board, though. Parents that don't want their children to be part of a club that's so violent, especially at such a young age," Hana comments slyly. "After all, when kids are so young, they could very easily decide to use the skills they learned in club to hurt the other children."

"THAT WOULDN'T HAPPEN TO THE EXTREME!"

"All the parents need to scrap the idea of a boxing club entirely is one more push." Hana grinned maliciously, "It'd be just too bad if a kid suddenly got injured and said it was because of boxing, wouldn't it? Why, there'd be no hope for a boxing club at all then."

"THAT WOULD BE HORRIBLE TO THE EXTREME!"

Hana nearly groans. Subtlety is completely lost on this kid. He doesn't even have the decency to know when he's being threatened.

Hana decides to cut her losses and try a different approach. She's always been more of a straight-forward, tell-it-the-way-it-is type of person anyway.

"We're not getting anywhere, so let me make this perfectly clear," Hana gets up from the desk chair and walks right up to Ryohei until she's right in his face. Pointing a threatening finger at him, she makes sure her voice is as deadly serious as she is, "You hurt Tsunako again and your little boxing club will never happen. I don't care if it's an accident- you hurt her, it's done."

"I WON'T EVER HURT TSUNA AGAIN TO THE EXTREME!" Ryohei earnestly promises, and Hana knows he speaks the truth.

"BUT WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH THE EXTREME BOXING CLUB?" Hana shoots him an incredulous look, but Ryohei just looks at her, honestly confused.

Hana closes her eyes in an attempt to calm herself. Maiming Ryohei would not only not be conducive to anything (except for maybe relieving her of the aggression building up inside), it also won't work since he's so much physically stronger than her already. Explaining to him that _Hana_ will be the one to shut down any possibility the boxing club has should Ryohei hurt Tsunako would take all night.

Hana brings a hand to massage her temples and tries to ease the quickly worsening headache there, "Look, just remember this: You hurt Tsunako, the boxing club loses all hope of being founded. That's all you need to know."

Judging those to be words to be clear enough, even for Ryohei, Hana heads for the door. She's not spending a second longer with this monkey if she doesn't have to.

Just as Hana is about to leave the room, Ryohei shouts, "WAIT!" He turns to look at her, and Hana is surprised to find honest concern there. Not because Ryohei is not a compassionate person, but because it is not in his nature to worry about anything. Once he realizes she's stopped walking out, he continues in a soft voice (by Ryohei standards, at least), "Is… Is Tsuna feeling better now?"

Trying to assuage his guilt, huh? Well, Hana isn't going to make this easy for him.

"Yes," She reluctantly concedes. And Tsunako indeed _would_ be healed before school started. "But she's still favoring her right side, and every time she holds something too heavy, she has to suppress a wince." One that was extremely hard for Hana to detect, and makes her worry about to what extent Tsunako is used to coping with pain.

"I WILL EXTREMELY HELP HER GET BETTER!" Ryohei vows.

Hana is about to protest, to tell him that that was _not_ the point of this whole conversation (if it can even be called that), but she knows that glint in Ryohei's eye, knows it means he's committed his mind to something and there's nothing anyone can do to change it anymore, and resigns herself to the inevitable.

 _Urgh. I've got such a headache now._

Honestly, this whole visit has been exhausting, from playing with dolls that have way too much drama in their lives, to trying to threaten Ryohei, to dealing with Ryohei in general.

 _The things I do for Tsunako._

And so Hana leaves and doesn't turn back.

.

.

.

"So what did Hana-chan want with you, Nii-chan?" It's a little after the siblings have had a nice family dinner, and Kyoko is curious about why her best friend would seek out Ryohei individually for the first time ever.

"I'M NOT SURE TO THE EXTREME, BUT…" Ryohei shouts confusedly. He stops to think over what occurred over the past half hour, "But I think maybe Hana-chan can be pretty scary to the EXTREME."

Kyoko nods, having known this already, and takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

* * *

 **A/N** : Well then! The end to what is possibly the longest OMAKE in the history of OMAKES!

Leave a review if you like it!


End file.
